Literature is without proofs. By which it must be understood that it cannot prove, not only what it says, but even that it is worth the trouble of saying it.

Man does not exist prior to language, either as a species or as an individual.

Who speaks is not who writes, and who writes is not who is.

...language is never innocent.

Literature is like phosphorus: it shines with its maximum brilliance and the moment when it attempts to die.

I think that cars today are almost the exact equivalent of the great Gothic cathedrals: I mean the supreme creation of an era, conceived with passion by unknown artists, and consumed in image if not in usage by a whole population which appropriates them as a purely magical object.

I am interested in language because it wounds or seduces me.