I always dream of a pen that would be a syringe.

What cannot be said above all must not be silenced but written.

Still today, I cannot cross the threshold of a teaching institution without physical symptoms, in my chest and my stomach, of discomfort or anxiety. And yet I have never left school.

In Algeria, I had begun to get into literature and philosophy. I dreamed of writing-and already models were instructing the dream, a certain language governed it.

Actually, when I write, there is a feeling of necessity, of something that is stronger than myself that demands that I must write as I write.

There is nothing outside the text

In philosophy, you have to reckon with the implicit level of an accumulated reserve, and thus with a very great number of relays, with the shared responsibility of these relays.