“All mothers breed dead children.They shall, perhaps, live later.When no longer dead, they are bornNotby coincidence, by choice.”

“I wore you on me at all timesLike I now carry my pen.Unlike your own opinion myBelongings must have a function.You bled through the ink of my lines andTo be my subject nursed your thirst.Was it my ...”

“Women in love are patheticand I cannot be bothered, for now,I am back to metaphysicsand my armpits gather hair.”

“I shall have my lasso, I shall lead the course;I recognize its time to mount a different horse.”

“Its just another stop on the curvy roadthe final encounterfor the man who has liveddeath is the answer.”

“I am the interpretation of the prophetI am the artist in the coffinI am the brave flag stained with bloodI am the wounds overcomeI am the dream refusing to sleepI am the bare-breasted voice of libe...”

“it is with this same imperialism that present-day simulators attempt to make the real, all of the real, coincide with their models of simulation.”

“And then I recalled those mysterious stories about the waxworkers of the middle ages and the public reprobation attached to their trade. Did they not live in cellars, in the eternal twilight propit...”