There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.

The search for the means to put an end to things, an end to speech, is what enables the discourse to continue.

I open the door of the cell and go. I am so bowed I only see my feet, if I open my eyes, and between my legs a little trail of black dust. I say to myself that the earth is extinguished, though I never saw it lit.

Any fool can turn a blind eye but who knows what the ostrich sees in the sand.

I lay down across her with my face in her breasts and my hand on her. We lay there without moving. But under us all moved, and moved us, gently, up and down, and from side to side.

Dance first. Think later. It's the natural order.

The only sin is the sin of being born.