I make myself into a new image in order to produce new images. 

 I am sorry to make you suffer, but remember, I am not suffering, except like you, when I look at the images. 

 Being a narcissist isn’t easy when the question is not of loving your own image, but of recreating the self through deliberate acts of alienation. 

 Only a few kinds of images force you to shut your eyes: death, suffering, the opening of the body, some aspects of pornography for some people, and for others, giving birth. In this case, the eyes become black holes in which the image is absorbed willingly or unwillingly, these images are swallowed up and hit just where it hurts, without passing though the usual filters. 

 I can observe my own body cut open, without suffering!... I see myself all the way down to my entrails; a new mirror stage. I can see to the heart of my lover; his splendid design has nothing to do with sickly sentimentalities.