A man is likewise form and expression, a written sign thrown unto boundless matter, an undifferentiated word of what is. I've therefore been created in the image of the inscriptions that, as a child, I used to project unto my bits of bone, stone, wood, and iron, probably even in the image of a single one of their words, a single one of their letters.

Beware that the one who reads is the same as the book, the same as what is read, the same as the speaker and the same as what is spoken without being the word.

Humiliation, slavery, fear have perverted us to the bone; we no longer look like men... . Men must be granted the respect due to them.

At present, [in the desert] an exasperating clarity reigns. The sky has become less visible than water in a jar. Black peaks, spines of granite, a twisted tree are sculpted in this atmosphere basted with reflections. All that remains: a countryside of imperishable contours.

A fire had been lit, and it would never be extinguished; its bloody flames would not stop until their sinister glow had been thrown across the entire nation.