I write to save someone's life, probably my own
Reality prior to my language exists as an unthinkable thought. . . . life precedes love, bodily matter precedes the body, and one day in its turn language shall have preceded possession of silence.
To think is an act. To feel is a fact.
I work only with lost and founds.
You don't understand music: you hear it. So hear me with your whole body.
How was she to tie herself to a man without permitting him to imprison her? And was there some means of acquiring things without those things possessing her?