Poetry leads to the same place as all forms of eroticism—to the blending and fusion of separate objects. It leads us to eternity, it leads us to death, and through death to continuity. Poetry is eternity; the sun matched with the sea.
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[L]ove smells like death.
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Humanity is a petrified fiction hiding from zero, a purgatorial imprisonment of dissolution, but to be stricken with sanctity is to bask in death like a reptile in the sun. God is dead, but more importantly, God is Death. The beginning of the secret is that death is immense.
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Laughter is a communion with the dead, since death is not the object of laughter: it is death itself that finds a voice when we laugh. Laughter is that which is lost to discourse, the haemorrhaging of pragmatics into excitation and filth.
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Every consciousness pursues its own death, every love-passion its own end, attracted by a black hole, and all the black holes resonate together.
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The man has a theory. The woman has hipbones. Here comes Death.
Is it the dead who belong to us, or we who belong to the dead?
Gilles Deleuze, Cinema 2: The Time-Image.
I equate love (bodies touching indecently) to the limitlessness of being – to nausea, to the sun, and to death.
Georges Bataille, from La Scissiparié, translation by Rowan G. Tepper
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She wants to look beautiful after she is dead. She wants people to admire her. Never has there been a more beautiful dead child.
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Now her room is almost dark. Only a distant street lamp glows faintly through the window. Now she no longer cares whether she dies “on foreign soil” or in her own garden. She steps onto the windowsill, holds herself fast to the cord of the shutter, and examines her shadowlike reflection in the mirror one last time. She finds herself lovely. A trace of regret lingers with her determination. “It’s over,” she says, quietly, and feels dead already, even before her feet leave the windowsill. She falls on her head and breaks her neck. Strangely contorted, her small body lies in the grass. The first one to find her is the dog. He sticks his head between her legs and begins licking her. When she does not move at all, he begins whimpering quietly and lies down beside her on the grass.
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