What I claim is to live to the full the contradiction of my time, which may well make sarcasm the condition of truth.

I have tried to be as eclectic as I possibly can with my professional life, and so far it's been pretty fun.

What the Photograph reproduces to infinity has occurred only once: the Photograph mechanically repeats what could never be repeated existentially.

The skyscraper establishes the block, the block creates the street, the street offers itself to man.

Don't say mourning. It's too psychoanalytic. I'm not mourning. I'm suffering.

...what I enjoy in a narrative is not directly its content or even its structure, but rather the abrasions I impose upon the fine surface: I read on, I skip, I look up, I dip in again. Which has nothing to do with the deep laceration the text of bliss inflicts upon language itself, and not upon the simple temporality of its reading.

Each of us has his own rhythm of suffering.