All that I had loved during my life rose up like a graveyar… - Georges Bataille

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All that I had loved during my life rose up like a graveyard of white tombs, in a lunar, spectral light. Fundamentally, this graveyard was a brothel. The funereal marble was alive. In some places it had hair on it.

Georges Bataille

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About Georges Bataille

Georges Albert Maurice Victor Bataille (10 September 1897 – 9 July 1962) was a French writer. His multifaceted work is linked to the domains of literature, anthropology, philosophy, economy, sociology and history of art. Eroticism and transgression are at the core of his writings.

Also Known As

Alternative Names: Pierre Angélique • George Bataille • Joruju Bataiyu • G. Bataiyu • Lord Auch • Pierre Angelique • Georges Albert Maurice Victor Bataille

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Emil Cioran Alan Watts Thomas Mann Anaïs Nin Henry Miller

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Love expresses a need for sacrifice each unity must lose itself in some other which exceeds it. In erotic frenzy the being is led to tear itself apart and lose itself.

I used to shut my eyes and let it shine redly through my lids. The sun was fantastic – it evoked dreams of explosion. Was there anything more sunlike than red blood running over cobblestones, as though light could shatter and kill? Now, in this thick darkness, I’d made myself drunk with light.

I remain in intolerable non-knowledge, which has no other way out than ecstasy itself.

All that I had loved during my life rose up like a graveyard of white tombs, in a lunar, spectral light. Fundamentally, this graveyard was a brothel.… - Georges Bataille

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