Literature Is Without Proofs. By Which It

Ensnared In His Starvation, Chaplin-man Is Always Just Below Political Awareness. A Strike Is A Catastrophe For Him Because It Threatens A Man Truly Blinded By His Hunger; This Man Achieves An Awareness Of The Working-class Condition Only When The Poor Man And The Proletarian Coincide Under The Gaze (and The Blows) Of The Police.

Pleasure Is Continually Disappointed, Reduced, Deflated, In Favor Of Strong, Noble Values: Truth, Death, Progress, Struggle, Joy, Etc. Its Victorious Rival Is Desire: We Are Always Being Told About Desire, Never About Pleasure.

For The Theatre One Needs Long Arms; It Is Better To Have Them Too Long Than Too Short. An Artiste With Short Arms Can Never, Never Make A Fine Gesture.

The Realists Do Not Take The Photograph For A 'copy' Of Reality, But For An Emanation Of Past Reality, A Magic, Not An Art.

The Ventoux Is A God Of Evil, To Which Sacrifices Must Be Made. It Never Forgives Weakness And Extracts An Unfair Tribute Of Suffering.