Do not think that one has to be sad in order to be militant, even though the thing one is fighting is abominable.

I am hopelessly in love with a memory. An echo from another time, another place.

If those arrangements [the fundamental arrangements of knowledge] were to disappear as they appeared... then one can certainly wager that man would be erased, like a face drawn in sand at the edge of the sea.

Wars are no longer waged in the name of a sovereign who must be defended; they are waged on behalf of the existence of everyone; entire populations are mobilized for the purpose of wholesale slaughter in the name of life necessity: massacres have become vital.

But the guilty person is only one of the targets of punishment. For punishment is directed above all at others, at all the potentially guilty.

Politics is not what it pretends to be, the expression of a collective will. Politics breathes well only where this will is multiple, hesitant, confused, and obscure even to itself.

The language of psychiatry, which is a monologue by reason about madness, could only have come into existence in such a silence.