However fiercely opposed one may be to the present order, an old respect for the idea of order itself often prevents people from distinguishing between order and those who stand for order, and leads them in practice to respect individuals under the pretext of respecting order itself.

We do not die because we have to die; we die because one day, and not so long ago, our consciousness was forced to deem it necessary.

If our life lacks a constant magic it is because we choose to observe our acts and lose ourselves in consideration of their imagined form and meaning, instead of being impelled by their force.

Not once more will/I be found with beings/who swallowed the rail of life//And one day I found myself with beings/who swallowed the nail of life/-as soon as I lost my matrix mamma,//and the being twisted under him,/and god poured me back to her/(the motherfucker).

In our present state of degeneration it is through the skin that metaphysics must be made to re-enter our minds.

This is why true beauty never strikes us directly. The setting sun is beautiful because of all it makes us lose.

The true theater, because it moves and makes use of living instruments, continues to stir up shadows where life has never ceased to grope its way.