I am there where it is spoken that the universe is a defect in the purity of non-being.

The unconscious is the discourse of the Other.

The real is what resists symbolization absolutely.

What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe?

The unconscious is structured like a language.

The only thing of which one can be guilty is of having given ground relative to one's desire.

...Desire, a function central to all human experience, is the desire for nothing nameable. And at the same time this desire lies at the origin of every variety of animation. If being were only what it is, there wouldn’t even be room to talk about it. Being comes into existence as an exact function of this lack.