is Sexus the book of the next literary circle, which I have to make.
On the act of writing: (Pages 15-16)
(...) A man writes to expel all the poison that has accumulated because of his false life fastened. Try to gain back his innocence, and yet, all I get is to inoculate the world with the virus of his disillusionment. No man would have written word, if I had the courage to live what he believes. His inspiration is diverted at source. If you want to create is a world of truth, beauty and magic, why postpone the action ... unless, like other men, what you want is power, fame, success? "Books are human actions in the death," said Balzac. And yet, despite having seen the truth, the angel delivered the demon possessed him.
(...) The real great writer does not write like that the world is a place where you can live the life of the imagination.
(...) The best writing is not itself the task of putting word after word, brick by brick, but the preliminary preparatory work to be done in silence, under any circumstances, as in dreams awake.
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