The painful secret of gods and kings is that men are free, Aegistheus. You know it and they do not.

A lost battle is a battle one thinks one has lost.

Do you think I can read [Alain] Robbe-Grillet in an underdeveloped country? He does not feel himself maimed.

I grow warm, I begin to feel happy. There is nothing extraordinary in this, it is a small happiness of Nausea: it spreads at the bottom of the viscous puddle, at the bottom of out time - the time of purple suspenders, and broken chair seats; it is made of white, soft instants, spreading at the edge, like an oil stain. No sooner than born, it is already old, it seems as though I have known it for twenty years.

My eyes feel all soft, all soft as flesh. I'm going to sleep.

Is there really nothing, nothing left of me?

Besides one should not believe that the people only want reading that is easy to absorb.