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It is the same: a chosen one is a man whom God’s finger crushes against the wall.
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As for me, I am mean: that means that I need the suffering of others to exist. A flame. A flame in their hearts. When I am all alone, I am extinguished.
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'This is the contradiction of racism, colonialism, and all forms of tyranny: in order to treat a man like a dog, one must first recognize him as a man.'
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Thus, Beauty is neither an appearance nor a being, but a relationship: the transformation of being into appearance
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Remember, Orestes: you were part of my herd, you grazed in the fields along with my sheep. Your liberty is nothing but a mange eating away at you, it is nothing but an exile.
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I came to claim my kingdom and you refused me because I was not one of you. Now I am one of you, my subjects, we are bound by blood, and I deserve to be your king. Your sins and your remorse, your mighty anguish, I take all upon myself. Fear your dead no more, they are my dead.
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For Genet, reflective states of mind are the rule. And although they are of an unstable nature in everyone, in him…reflection is always contrary to the reflected feeling.
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To eat is to appropriate by destruction.
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The Communist Party has one objective: the creation of a socialist economy; and one means: the utilization of the class struggle.
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I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow. And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air. It moves.
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L'homme est une passion inutile.
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Tout existant naît sans raison, se prolonge par faiblesse et meurt par rencontre.
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When you live alone you no longer know what it is to tell a story: the plausible disappears at the same time as the friends. You let events flow by too: you suddenly see people appear who speak and then go away; you plunge into stories of which you can't make head or tail: you'd make a terrible witness.
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One cannot become a saint when one works sixteen hours a day.
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This inner revolution is realistic because it maintains itself deliberately within the framework of existing institutions; the oppressed reckon with the real situation.
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I can be twenty women, one hundred, if that’s what you want, all women. Ride with me behind you, I weigh nothing, your horse will not feel me. I want to be your whorehouse!
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Man is always separated from what he is by all the breadth of the being which he is not. He makes himself known to himself from the other side of the world and he looks from the horizon toward himself to recover his inner being.
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For an occurrence to become an adventure, it is necessary and sufficient for one to recount it.
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He chooses the most feared, most hated man in order to worship him as a god, feeling sure that he is alone in perceiving the god’s secret virtues.
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The dreamer must contaminate the others by his dream, he must make them fall into it
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the martyr’s reflex
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Night is falling: at dusk, you must have good eyesight to be able to tell the Good Lord from the Devil.
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Fascism is not defined by the number of its victims, but by the way it kills them.
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They are in bad faith - they are afraid - and fear, bad faith have an aroma that the gods find delicious. Yes, the gods like that, the pitiful souls.