The basic unit for contemporary art is not the idea, but the analysis of and extension of sensations.

Rules of taste enforce structures of power.

One can know worlds one has not experienced, choose a response to life that has never been offered, create an inwardness utterly strong and fruitful.

One cannot use the life to interpret the work. But One can use the work to interpret the life.

Persons who merely have-a-life customarily move in a dense fluid. That's how they're able to conduct their lives at all. Their living depends on not seeing.

For those who live neither with religious consolations about death nor with a sense of death (or of anything else) as natural, death is the obscene mystery, the ultimate affront, the thing that cannot be controlled. It can only be denied.

Perversity is the muse of modern literature.