Welcome To The Desert Of The Real.

Terror Is As Much A Part Of The Concept Of Truth As Runniness Is Of The Concept Of Jam. We Wouldn't Like Jam If It Didn't, By Its Very Nature, Ooze. We Wouldn't Like Truth If It Wasn't Sticky, If, From Time To Time, It Didn't Ooze Blood.

Art Does Not Die Because There Is No More Art. It Dies Because There Is Too Much.

We Have Dreamt Of Every Woman There Is, And Dreamt Too Of The Miracle That Would Bring Us The Pleasure Of Being A Woman, For Women Have All The Qualities - Courage, Passion, The Capacity To Love, Cunning - Whereas All Our Imagination Can Do Is Naively Pile Up The Illusion Of Courage.

Simulation Is The Situation Created By Any System Of Signs When It Becomes Sophisticated Enough, Autonomous Enough, To Abolish Its Own Referent And To Replace It With Itself.

It Is The Corpse Of The Bourgeoisie That Separates Us. With Us, It Is That Class That Is The Carrier Of The Chromosome Of Banality.