All human states are organic brain states - happiness, sadness, fear, lust, dreaming, doing math problems and writing novels - and our brains are not static.

I've often thought that one of us is what we imagine, that each of us normalizes the terrible strangeness of inner life with a variety of convenient fictions.

Correlation is not cause, it is just a 'music of chance'.

There is no future without a past, because what is to be cannot be imagined except as a form of repetition.

There's a phenomenology of being sick, one that depends on temperament, personal history, and the culture which we live in.

Every one of us is prone to implicit sexual prejudices, including women.

That is the strangeness of language: it crosses the boundaries of the body, is at once inside and outside, and it sometimes happens that we don't notice the threshold has been crossed.