Objet petit a (n.) is the ineffable je ne sai quoi quality, or that about a soup which is somehow more than just the ingredients.
Objet petit a (n.) is that in me which is more than myself — the alien in the film, which can be torn out of me only at the cost of my destruction.
The Objet petit a (n.) is what is subtracted from reality as impossible and thereby gives it consistency; included in reality, it causes catastrophe.
The Objet petit a (n.) as obstruction is not a real person but a fantasy-entity, blind fate as the necessity of a chance, guaranteeing that things will always somehow go wrong.
The Objet petit a (n.) is the je ne sais quoi that makes the difference where no positive difference can be established — between true upper-classness and its clumsy imitation.
The Objet petit a (n.) is not what we desire but what sets desire in motion — the formal frame of features that, met in some object, makes us desire it.
The Objet petit a (n.) arises, like the castrato's voice, at the very place of castration.
The Objet petit a (n.) is a negative magnitude, 'something that stands for nothing': an object that in its very positivity gives body to a lack — what remains of the Thing after symbolization.
The Objet petit a (n.) makes two identical series of notes in Humoresque, well played, somehow sound different — the je ne sais quoi found nowhere in positive reality, whose presence or absence makes the music appear entirely different.
The Objet petit a (n.) of Carnaval is Sphinxes, the unperformable section, a formula of enjoyment whose exclusion guarantees the reality of the rest; performed, it turns uncanny, even obscene, like a dead squid on a table.
The Objet petit a (n.) is a 'pathological a priori': a particular, radically subjective object that taints every act of positing objective reality with a particular twist — the subjective factor of objectivization.
The Objet petit a (n.) is the tiny detail — a strange glimpse in the eyes, too much skin between the fingers — that magically transubstantiates its bearer into an alien, as in Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
The Objet petit a (n.) is not the desired object but the feature for which we desire it — some detail or tic we often misperceive as the obstacle, that in spite of which we desire.
The Objet petit a (n.) is a "shadow of what it is not": the inscription of the subject itself into the field of objects, a stain that takes form only when desire distorts the view.
The Objet petit a (n.) is the coincidence of lack and surplus — excessive power as the very form in which a fundamental impotence appears, like capital's frenzy around its own blockage.
The Objet petit a (n.) is the 'something in it more than itself' that stays the same in all possible worlds — not found in any positive property, but the retroactive effect of naming, a void opened in reality by the signifier.
The Objet petit a (n.) is the title 'Lenin in Warsaw': the painting shows Krupskaya in bed with a young Komsomol member, and to 'But where is Lenin?' the answer is 'Lenin is in Warsaw.' The title names the object that must fall out of the picture for the picture to exist.
The Objet petit a (n.) is produced by the search itself: the conscript faking madness checks every paper muttering 'That is not it!' until the psychiatrist hands him his discharge — 'That is it!'
The Objet petit a (n.) is the one thing a perfect replica of the beloved would lack: the unfathomable cause of desire in her.
The Objet petit a (n.) is the X beyond words that is a pure effect of words — 'what is in the soup more than the soup'.