These Critics Organize And Practice

I Would Like To Write You So Simply, So Simply, So Simply. Without Having Anything Ever Catch The Eye, Excepting Yours Alone, ... So That Above All The Language Remains Self-evidently Secret, As If It Were Being Invented At Every Step, And As If It Were Burning Immediately

That Is What Deconstruction Is Made Of: Not The Mixture But The Tension Between Memory, Fidelity, The Preservation Of Something That Has Been Given To Us, And, At The Same Time, Heterogeneity, Something Absolutely New, And A Break.

I Am One Of Those Marranes Who No Longer Say They Are Jews Even In The Secret Of Their Own Hearts.

To Pretend, I Actually Do The Thing: I Have Therefore Only Pretended To Pretend.

One Often Speaks Without Seeing, Without Knowing, Without Meaning What One Says.