"Not only are major economic and technological options at stake, but also people’s attitudes, their relations with the world, particularities of desire. Managers, policemen politicians, bureaucrats, professors, psychoanalysts – all will join forces in vain to stop this revolution, to canalize it, to take it over; in vain will they sophisticate, diversify, miniaturize their weapons to the nth degree: they will never regain control of that massive movement of escape, the multitude of molecular mutations of desire that have now been let loose. The economic, political and moral order of the twentieth century is breaking up everywhere, and the people in power hardly know which way to turn. The enemy is intangible – you hear a twig snap beside you, and you find your son, your wife, even your own desire is betraying your mission as guardian of the established
order."
Felix Guattari
"For our part, it is our task to drag the old world into the full light of day and to give positive shape to the new one. The more time history allows thinking mankind to reflect and suffering mankind to collect its strength the more perfect will be the fruit which the present now bears within its womb."
"If the signs of love and jealousy carry their own alteration, it is for a simple reason: love unceasingly prepares its own disappearance, acts out its dissolution."
Gilles Deleuze - Signs and Truth
lonequixote:

New Bridge, Paris ~ Edouard Cortes
991
"The beloved appears as a sign, a ‘soul’; the beloved expresses a possible world unknown to us, implying, enveloping, imprisoning a world that must be deciphered, that is, interpreted. What is involved, here, is a plurality of worlds; the pluralism of love does not concern only the multiplicity of loved beings, but the multiplicity of souls or worlds in each of them."
Gilles Deleuze - Proust and Signs
vvhateva:

MIRROR NEURONS
14
b-a-c-u:

Housing complex, Albisoara, Chisinau, Moldova
342
workman-studio:

workman:
6
8
bluecrowcafe:

irisharchaeology:

Mysterious graffiti in the Tower of London, carved by Hew Draper, a Bristol innkeeper, accused of sorcery, dated 1561 (photo HRP)

HEW DRAPER OF BRISTOW (Bristol) MADE THIS SPEER THE 30 DAYE OF MAYE, 1561
A zodiac wheel with a plan of the days of the week and the hours of the night on the right.

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/jonathanjonesblog/2010/apr/12/hew-draper-tower-of-london-graffiti 
169
akapale:

foggy/pale
"

In the beginning is the scream. We scream.

When we write or when we read, it is easy to forget that the beginning is not the word, but the scream. Faced with the mutilation of human lives by capitalism, a scream of sadness, a scream of horror, a scream of anger, a scream of refusal: NO.

The starting point of theoretical reflection is opposition, negativity, struggle. It is from rage that thought is born, not from the pose of reason, not from the reasoned-sitting-back-and-reflecting-on-the-mysteries-of-existence that is the conventional image of the thinker

We start from negation, from dissonance. The dissonance can take many shapes. An inarticulate mumble of discontent, tears of frustration, a scream of rage, a confident roar. An unease, a confusion, a longing, a critical vibration.

"
John Holloway
christophermarkperez:

Chateau ~ Abandoned Places
The warmth of the late afternoon sun streaming through open windows inviting the breeze to dance and swirl inside.
"'Change the world' said Marx; 'change life' said Rimbaud; for us, these two tasks are identical"
André Breton
"… he cannot learn to forget but clings relentlessly to the past: however far and fast he may run, this chain runs with him. And it is a matter for wonder: a moment, now here and then gone, nothing before it came, again nothing after it has gone, nonetheless returns as a ghost and disturbs the peace of a later moment. A leafflutters from the scroll of time, floats away- and suddenly floats back again and falls into the man’s lap. Then the man says ‘I remember’ and envies the animal, who at once forgets and for whom every moment really dies, sinks back into night and fog and is extinguished for ever."
Friedrich Nietzsche - Untimely Meditations

Today, I finished the final volume of Marcel Proust's 'In Search of Lost Time.' I have never had such an immense feeling of loss upon finishing a book (except maybe Kafka's three novels). I know that this is a work that I will read cyclically for the rest of my life and never tire of. I really, really cannot recommend it enough. Now though I have to decide upon what can follow it!? I'm thinking Dostoevsky's 'The Karamazov Brothers' or 'Devils'; or Victor Hugo's 'Les Miserables' or 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame'. Unless anyone has a must read recommendation worthy of following what is (i'm pretty sure) the greatest novel I will ever read.