What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe?

Obsessional does not necessarily mean sexual obsession, not even obsession for this, or for that in particular; to be an obsessional means to find oneself caught in a mechanism, in a trap increasingly demanding and endless.

Writings scatter to the winds blank checks in an insane charge. And were they not such flying leaves, there would be no purloined letters.

Psychoanalysis is a terribly efficient instrument, and because it is more and more a prestigious instrument, we run the risk of using it with a purpose for which it was not made for, and in this way we may degrade it.

In other words, the man who is born into existence deals first with language; this is a given. He is even caught in it before his birth.

The Mirror Stage as formative in the function of the I as revealed in psychoanalytic experience.

Which is why we cannot say of the purloined letter that, like other objects, it must be or not be in a particular place but that unlike them it will be and not be where it is, wherever it goes.

Symptoms, those you believe you recognize, seem to you irrational because you take them in an isolated manner, and you want to interpret them directly.

What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe?

For the signifier is a unit in its very uniqueness, being by nature symbol only of an absence.

Aside from that reservation, a fictive tale even has the advantage of manifesting symbolic necessity more purely to the extent that we may believe its conception arbitrary.

But this emphasis would be lavished in vain, if it served, in your opinion, only to abstract a general type from phenomena whose particularity in our work would remain the essential thing for you, and whose original arrangement could be broken up only artificially.

What could be more convincing, moreover, than the gesture of laying one's cards face up on the table?

Since Freud, the center of man is not where we thought it was; one has to go on from there.

As is known, it is in the realm of experience inaugurated by psychoanalysis that we may grasp along what imaginary lines the human organism, in the most intimate recesses of its being, manifests its capture in a symbolic dimension.

A geometry implies the heterogeneity of locus, namely that there is a locus of the Other. Regarding this locus of the Other, of one sex as Other, as absolute Other, what does the most recent development in topology allow us to posit?

We emphasize that such a form of communication is not absent in man, however evanescent a naturally given object may be for him, split as it is in its submission to symbols.

Yet, analytical truth is not as mysterious, or as secret, so as to not allow us to see that people with a talent for directing consciences see truth rise spontaneously.

The narration, in fact, doubles the drama with a commentary without which no mise en scene would be possible.

The knowledge that there is a part of the psychic functions that are out of conscious reach, we did not need to wait for Freud to know this!

Among absent lovers, ardor always fares better.

French novels generally treat of the relations of women to the world and to lovers, after marriage; consequently there is a great deal in French novels about adultery, about improper relations between the sexes, about many things which the English public would not allow.

I have considered rap music stars, and there is one in my new book, Lovers and Players, and there is also a hip-hop music mogul who I think you will like a lot.

The quarrels of lovers are the renewal of love.

I had previously been in the band the Modern Lovers with Jonathan Richman.

Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly.

In every question and every remark tossed back and forth between lovers who have not played out the last fugue, there is one question and it is this: 'Is there someone new?'

Eventually you love people - friends or lovers - because of their flaws.

The best mannered people make the most absurd lovers.

Who would give a law to lovers? Love is unto itself a higher law.

Gossip isn't scandal and it's not merely malicious. It's chatter about the human race by lovers of the same.

The reason that lovers never weary each other is because they are always talking about themselves.

When friends and lovers die and your world gets quieter; that's when the silence comes closer; that's when next isn't the least bit theoretical or abstract.

The love story for me was the nature of the love and not the age of the lovers.

We Greeks are lovers of the beautiful, yet simple in our tastes, and we cultivate the mind without loss of manliness.

Lovers have a right to betray you... friends don't.

Women who have had no lovers, or having had one, two or three, have not found a husband, have perhaps rather had a miss than a loss, as men go.

Literature has been the salvation of the damned, literature has inspired and guided lovers, routed despair and can perhaps in this case save the world.

Lovers of air travel find it exhilarating to hang poised between the illusion of immortality and the fact of death.

It's impossible to compare two bands. It would be like comparing two lovers.

All great lovers are articulate, and verbal seduction is the surest road to actual seduction.

I'm more interested in interpersonal relationships - between lovers families, siblings. That's why I write about how we treat each other.

What does it matter how many lovers you have if none of them gives you the universe?

There is no pain equal to that which two lovers can inflict on one another. This should be made clear to all who contemplate such a union. The avoidance of this pain is the beginning of wisdom, for it is strong enough to contaminate the rest of our lives.

Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty.

Lovers of painting and lovers of music are people who openly display their preference like a delectable ailment that isolates them and makes them proud.

Freedom of love is freedom to say yes to many lovers.

At the beginning and at the end of love, the two lovers are embarrassed to find themselves alone.

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?