Pain is the world. I don’t have anywhere to run.
I understand that when people read my books that there’s something there – but I don’t identify with it.
But : We’re still human. Human because we keep on battling against all these horrors, the horrors caused and not caused by us. We battle not in order to stay alive, that would be too materalistic, for we are body and spirit, but in order to love each other.
The whole world is men’s bloody fantasies.
Some of the stuff about Yogi energy is really fascinating.
In such a society as ours the only possible chance for change, for mobility, for political, economic, and moral flow lies in the tactics of guerrilla warfare, in the use of fictions, of language.
Every day a sharp tool, a powerful destroyer, is necessary to cut away dullness, lobotomy, buzzing, belief in human beings, stagnancy, images, and accumulation. As soon as we stop believing in human beings, rather know we are dogs and trees, we’ll start to be happy.
I think it’s really important to find out why people hurt you or try to oppose you or whatever.
The personal interiorization of the practice of humiliation is called humility.
We come crawling through these cracks, orphans, lobotomies; if you ask me what I want, I’ll tell you. I want everything. Whole rotten world come down and break. Let me spread my legs.
Love goes away when your mind goes away and then you’re someone else.
There must be a secret hidden in this book or else you wouldn’t bother to read it.
You know I’ve had work banned.
I want to get out of here means I want to be innocent.
Life doesn’t exist inside language: too bad for me.
And I’m working at trying to find a kind of language where I won’t be so easily modulated by expectation.
But now that she had achieved knighthood, and thought and acted as she wanted and decided, for one has to act in this way in order to save this world, she neither noticed nor cared that all the people around her thought she was insane.
You create identity, you’re not given identity per se. What became more and more interesting to me wasn’t the I, it was text because it’s text that create identity. That’s how I got interested in plagiarism.
It was only when we were in that bed, high above the world – then I thought the birds could have been circling around our bodies circled around each other – that we made our world totally separated from everything else. It was the only way we could be together.
Dreams are manifestations of identities.