I always speak the truth. Not the whole truth, because there's no way, to say it all. Saying it all is literally impossible: words fail. Yet it's through this very impossibility that the truth holds onto the real.

I always speak the truth. Not the whole truth, because there's no way, to say it all. Saying it all is literally impossible: words fail. Yet it's through this very impossibility that the truth holds onto the real.

Since Freud, the center of man is not where we thought it was; one has to go on from there.

The unconscious is structured like a language.

What could be more convincing, moreover, than the gesture of laying one's cards face up on the table?

Aside from that reservation, a fictive tale even has the advantage of manifesting symbolic necessity more purely to the extent that we may believe its conception arbitrary.

The unconscious is the discourse of the Other.