External images act on me, transmit movement to me, and I return movement: how could images be in my consciousness since I am myself image, that is, movement?

A concept is a brick. It can be used to build a courthouse of reason. Or it can be thrown through the window.

In truth, Freud sees nothing and understands nothing.

The self is only a threshold, a door, a becoming between two multiplicities

The philosopher creates, he doesn't reflect.

The plane of consistency is the abolition of all metaphor; all that consists is Real.

Instead of gambling on the eternal impossibility of the revolution and on the fascist return of a war-machine in general, why not think that a new type of revolution is in the course of becoming possible, and that all kinds of mutating, living machines conduct wars, are combined and trace out a plane of consistance which undermines the plane of organization of the World and the States?