Sensuality (n.) is an ever-growing hunger that pulls away from every being, launching into an unlimited, empty, vertiginous future.
Sensuality (n.) aims not at the Other but at his voluptuousness: love of the love of the other.
Sensuality (n.) is the exasperation of non-satisfaction — the one point where ordinary desire resembles metaphysical desire.
Sensuality (n.) profanes; it does not see — an intentionality without vision, a pure experience that passes into no concept and remains blindly experience.
Sensuality (n.) is one same feeling substantially common to me and the other — not as two observers share a landscape — yet the other's separation within that community is its very acuity.
Sensuality (n.) does not arrive to satisfy desire; it is desire itself — not just impatient but impatience as such, breathless, caught off guard by its end, since it goes on without heading toward one.
Sensuality (n.) uncovers the hidden as hidden: here to uncover is to violate, not reveal — and the shame of that profanation lowers the eyes that should have studied what was bared.