As soon as there is language, generality has entered the scene.

One often speaks without seeing, without knowing, without meaning what one says.

These years of the Ecole Normale were an ordeal. Nothing was handed to me on the first try.

The circle of the return to birth can only remain open, but this is a chance, a sign of life, and a wound.

Each time this identity announces itself, someone or something cries: Look out for the trap, youre caught. Take off, get free, disengage yourself.

Every discourse, even a poetic or oracular sentence, carries with it a system of rules for producing analogous things and thus an outline of methodology.

A text is not a text unless it hides from the first comer, from the first glance, the law of its composition and the rules of its game. A text remains, moreover, forever imperceptible. Its laws and rules are not, however, harbored in the inaccessibility of a secret; it is simply that they can never be booked, in the present, into anything that could rigorously be called a perception.