Humiliation, slavery, fear have perverted us to the bone; we no longer look like men... . Men must be granted the respect due to them.
Beware that the one who reads is the same as the book, the same as what is read, the same as the speaker and the same as what is spoken without being the word.
A man is likewise form and expression, a written sign thrown unto boundless matter, an undifferentiated word of what is. I've therefore been created in the image of the inscriptions that, as a child, I used to project unto my bits of bone, stone, wood, and iron, probably even in the image of a single one of their words, a single one of their letters.
At present, [in the desert] an exasperating clarity reigns. The sky has become less visible than water in a jar. Black peaks, spines of granite, a twisted tree are sculpted in this atmosphere basted with reflections. All that remains: a countryside of imperishable contours.
