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

Writing has nothing to do with meaning. It has to do with landsurveying and cartography, including the mapping of countries yet to come.

My eye, my brain, are images, parts of my body. How could my brain contain images since it is one image among others?

A tyrant institutionalises stupidity, but he is the first servant of his own system and the first to be installed within it.

Images exist; things themselves are images... Images constantly act on and react to one another, produce and consume. There is no difference between images, things and movement.

The percept is the landscape before man, in the absence of man.

D.H. Lawrence had the impression – that psychoanalysis was shutting sexuality up in a bizarre sort of box painted with bourgeois motifs, in a kind of rather repugnant artificial triangle, thereby stifling the whole of sexuality as a production of desire so as to recast it along entirely different lines, making of it a ‘dirty little secret’, a dirty little family secret, a private theater rather than the fantastic factory of nature and production