Thinking Is Trying To Think

And I Was Afraid. She Frightens Me Because She Can Knock Me Down With A Word. Because She Does Not Know That Writing Is Walking On A Dizzying Silence Setting One Word After The Other On Emptiness. Writing Is Miraculous And Terrifying Like The Flight Of A Bird Who Has No Wings But Flings Itself Out And Only Gets Wings By Flying.

Wouldn't The Worst Be, Isn't The Worst, In Truth, That Women Aren't Castrated, That They Have Only To Stop Listening To The Sirens (for The Sirens Were Men) For History To Change Its Meaning? You Only Have To Look At The Medusa Straight On To See Her. And She's Not Deadly. She's Beautiful And She's Laughing.

Women Must Write Through Their Bodies, They Must Invent The Impregnable Language That Will Wreck Partitions, Classes, And Rhetorics, Regulations And Codes, They Must Submerge, Cut Through, Get Beyond The Ultimate Reverse-discourse, Including The One That Laughs At The Very Idea Of Pronouncing The Word "silence"...in One Another We Will Never Be Lacking.

We Must Kill The False Woman Who Is Preventing The Live One From Breathing.

It Is Said That Life And Death Are Under The Power Of Language.