It makes me realise that the fantasy of nature is much larger than my own fantasy. I still have things to learn.

We already have the statistics for the future: the growth percentages of pollution, overpopulation, desertification. The future is already in place.

Removed from its more restrictive sense, masturbation has become an expression for everything that has proved, for lack of human contact, to be void of meaning. We have communication problems, suffer from egocentrism and narcissism, are frustrated by information glut and loss of environment; we stagnate despite the rising GNP.

There must be reasons why we men are so hipped on breasts as if we'd all been weaned too soon.

What novel - or what else in the world - can have the epic scope of a photograph album? May our Father in Heaven, the untiring amateur who each Sunday snaps us from above, at an unfortunate angle that makes for hideous foreshortening, and pastes our pictures, properly exposed or not, in his album, guide me safely through this album of mine.

Translation is that which transforms everything so that nothing changes.

I am not faithful but I am attached.