“I have no never-again, I have no always. In the sand\ victory abandoned its footprints.\ I am a poor man willing to love his fellow men.\ I don’t know who you are. I love you. I don’t give away thorns,\ and I don’t sell them…” (Neruda, LXXVIII in “100 Love Sonnets”).

“Do not ask who I am and do not ask me to remain the same: leave it to our bureaucrats and our police to see that our papers are in order. At least spare us their morality when we write” (Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge).