must follow Pascal Quignard on the track of paradise lost, forgotten stories, and secret etymologies epiphanic. His pieces are all groping in search of the origin, front of yore. Quest from the beginning that queries language to impossible to find the source, the image never seen as inaccessible, soaring voice in time.
Excerpts, fragments, ruins, fragments, slag Garden of Eden.
"In our first love is without memory as faceless. What fascinates each time is modeled in love (smell, saliva, shadow) by this imaginary world, faceless, prelinguistic , that is to say, not stored, that is to say irreconnaissable. Upstream is heavenly. dripping, they released their head above water, their eyes are sad, they cry. It date of birth - But none of us begins to live at the time of his birth. "
" This is one of the oldest definitions of love: a desire that if desired strong that dream in his absence a face. The attraction is such that it produces in the absence of an epiphany. Embrace ventral weighed down, between the father and mother, created the ghost of the son. "
" is called "spitting image" the resemblance between the face the seeder and reproduced from the seeded side. [...] The male at the time of shaking spitting his portrait in the belly of the one he kissed her face. "
(these quotes make me think inevitably portraitdu father outraged by the spittle of the Vinteuil friends in the scene of the Montjouvain Research. Scene fundamental in the work of Proust and fascinates psychoanalysts and literary commentator!)
"The only way to embrace his mother is living in the house where one lives. " (his work?)
" Reading is the most intimate experience that can make a human. The literature is entirely in the mystery of this silent orality. "
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