Born Of The Sensibility, Art Sows And

Extraordinarily Excessive Sensuality It May Be .. But It All Comes Down To The Same Thing In The End, And One Means Is Surely As Good As Another, Since The End Obtained Is Always The Same. In Any Case The Exceptional, Endlessly Repeated, Is No Different Than The Banal; And Unceasing Recapitulation Can Add Nothing, In The End, To The Sum Of Experience. I Am Weary And Hopeless Three Times The Dupe. Why Have You Trained Me In The Shame Of Abominable Sins?

And There Is Neither Beginning Nor End, Nor Past Nor Future; There Is Only A Present, At The Same Time Static And Ephemeral, Multiple And Absolute. It Is The Vital Ocean In Which We All Share, According To Our Strength, Our Needs Or Our Desires.

Knowledge Has Its End In Itself, Apart From Any Idea Of Life And Propagation Of The Species.

Nothing Exists Except By Virtue Of A Disequilibrium, An Injustice. All Existence Is A Theft Paid For By Other Existences; No Life Flowers Except On A Cemetery.

For Two Thousand Years Christianity Has Been Telling Us: Life Is Death, Death Is Life; It Is High Time To Consult The Dictionary.