Underneath All Reason Lies Delirium And Drift.

What Do You Know About Me, Given That I Believe In Secrecy? ... If I Stick Where I Am, If I Don't Travel Around, Like Anyone Else I Make My Inner Journeys That I Can Only Measure By My Emotions, And Express Very Obliquely And Circuitously In What I Write. ... Arguments From One's Own Privileged Experience Are Bad And Reactionary Arguments.

Why Do Men Fight For Their Servitude As Stubbornly As Though It Were Their Salvation?

The Self Is Only A Threshold, A Door, A Becoming Between Two Multiplicities

External Images Act On Me, Transmit Movement To Me, And I Return Movement: How Could Images Be In My Consciousness Since I Am Myself Image, That Is, Movement?

Instead Of Gambling On The Eternal Impossibility Of The Revolution And On The Fascist Return Of A War-machine In General, Why Not Think That A New Type Of Revolution Is In The Course Of Becoming Possible, And That All Kinds Of Mutating, Living Machines Conduct Wars, Are Combined And Trace Out A Plane Of Consistance Which Undermines The Plane Of Organization Of The World And The States?