I came across this gem when flicking through Deleuze’s Foucault earlier. It’s a reflection on the mood of Foucault’s oeuvre, but I suspect I’ll have the phrase “destroy whatever mutilates life” rattling around in my mind for some time.
Provided the hatred is strong enough something can be salvaged, a great joy which is not the ambivalent joy of hatred, but the joy of wanting to destroy whatever mutilates life.
Pg 23

