Lose your face: become capable of loving without remembering, without phantasm and without interpretation, without taking stock. Let there just be fluxes, which sometimes dry up, freeze or overflow, which sometimes combine or diverge. ― Gilles Deleuze
I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow. And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air. It moves. — Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea. (New Directions Publishing Corporation January 1, 1975) Originally published 1938.
The whple problem with this world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts. — Bertrand Russell
I see the insipid flesh blossoming and palpitating with abandon. ― Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea. (New Directions Publishing Corporation January 1, 1975) Originally published 1938.
I equate love (bodies touching indecently) to the limitlessness of being – to nausea, to the sun, and to death. — Georges Bataille, from “La Scissiparié,” Oeuvres Completes III. (Editions Flammarion July 27, 1984) Originally published in Les Cahiers de la Pléiade, Spring 1949.
In the violence of overcoming, in the disorder of my laughter and my sobbing, in the excess of raptures that shatter me, I seize on the similarity between a horror and a voluptuousness that goes beyond me, between an ultimate pain and an unbearable joy! — Georges Bataille, The Tears of Eros. (City Lights Publishers… Continue reading Georges Bataille
Faith is not a question of the existence or non-existence of God. It is believing that love without reward is valuable. — Emmanuel Levinas
It is necessary to fall in love – the better to provide an alibi for all the despair we are going to feel anyway. — Albert Camus
Compared to the person I love, the universe seems poor and empty. This universe isn’t ‘risked’ because it’s not ‘perishable.’ But the beloved is the ‘beloved’ for only a single person. Carnal love, because not ‘sheltered from thieves’ or vicissitudes, is greater than divine love. It risks me and the one I love. God by… Continue reading Georges Bataille
(You will proclaim through your work that you hold the universe at a distance.) — Jean-Paul Sartre, “The Poetry of Suicide,” Between Existentialism and Marxism. (Verso, January 17, 2008) Originally published 1960.