Love Is Made By Two People, In

There Exists A Black Kingdom Which The Eyes Of Man Avoid Because Its Landscape Fails Signally To Flatter Them. This Darkness, Which He Imagines He Can Dispense With In Describing The Light, Is Error With Its Unknown Characteristics. Error Is Certainty's Constant Companion. Error Is The Corollary Of Evidence. And Anything Said About Truth May Equally Well Be Said About Error: The Delusion Will Be No Greater.

Language Was Not Given To Man: He Seized It.

Photography Intervenes In A Very Strange Way. It Makes The Streets, Gates, Squares Of The City Into Illustrations Of A Trashy Novel, Draws Off The Banal Obviousness Of This Ancient Architecture To Inject It With The Most Pristine Intensity.

As [john Heartfield] Was Playing With The Fire Of Appearance, Reality Took Fire Around Him... The Scraps Of Photographs That He Formerly Manoeuvred For The Pleasure Of Stupification, Under His Fingers Began To Signify.

There Are Strange Flowers Of Reason To Match Each Error Of The Senses. Admirable Gardens Of Absurd Beliefs, Forebodings, Obsessions And Frenzies. Unknown, Ever-changing Gods Take Shape There.