I’m no good for anything except taking the world apart and putting it together again (and I manage the latter less and less frequently).

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.

We are all mediators, translators.

I have always had school sickness, as others have seasickness. I cried when it was time to go back to school long after I was old enough to be ashamed of such behavior.

Contrary to what phenomenology- which is always phenomenology of perception- has tried to make us believe, contrary to what our desire cannot fail to be tempted into believing, the thing itself always escapes.

Surviving - that is the other name of a mourning whose possibility is never to be awaited.

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