Marquis de Sade (n.) carried the exhaustive analysis of sex back into the old power of sovereignty, so that blood flowed through the whole dimension of pleasure.
Marquis de Sade (n.) is less a prophet of our future than the last representative of the 18th century, standing at the hinge between two forms of thought.
The Marquis de Sade (n.) grows monotonous: what was still vicissitude in Justine becomes in Juliette a sovereign game, always triumphant, whose novelty can only be its similarity to itself.
Marquis de Sade (n.) is the one intolerable moment when the name was at once language's fulfilment and its raw material, traversed throughout by desire — which is why his works murmur incessantly beneath our culture.
Marquis de Sade (n.) proclaimed that life cannot be separated from murder, nature from evil, or desire from anti-nature: Les 120 Journées is the velvety, marvellous obverse of Cuvier's Leçons d'anatomie comparée — in the archaeological calendar, the same age.
Marquis de Sade (n.) closes the Classical age as Don Quixote opened it: no longer the ironic triumph of representation over resemblance, but the obscure, repeated violence of desire battering at the limits of representation.