If I Possibly Can

Our cultivated, high-society set only gorge themselves on Beckett, Cioran, Artaud and all today’s hallowed forms of cynicism and nihilism the better to evade any analysis of the current forms of despair. They denounce with greatest moral and political energy every present instance of nihilism, of the nihility of our values, while “culturally” savoring the heroic but anachronistic forms of nihilism and the inhuman. They glorify the accursed share, but keep the holy water handy.