You were the living image of the entire Platonic shadow show, an illusion that could fill my emptiness with marvellous, imaginary things as long as, just as long as, the movie lasted, and then all would all vanish.

There is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

A book is simply the container of an idea-like a bottle; what is inside the book is what matters.

Language is power, life and the instrument of culture, the instrument of domination and liberation.

I see her as a series of marvellous shapes formed at random in the kaleidoscope of desire.

I am entirely alone. I and my shadow fill the universe.

So I suppose I do not know how he really looked, and, in fact, I suppose I shall never know, now, for he was plainly an object created in the mode of fantasy. His image was already present somewhere in my head and I was seeking to discover it in actuality, looking at every face I met in case it was the right face - that is, the face which corresponded to my notion of the unseen face of the one I should love, a face created parthenogeneticallyby the rage to love which consumed me.