The separation of philosophy from literary study has not worked to the benefit of either. Without the pressure of philosophy on literary texts, or the reciprocal pressure of literary analysis on philosophical writing, each discipline becomes impoverished. If there is the danger of a confusion of realms, it is a danger worth experiencing. Since the era of the German Romantics, however, and of Coleridge -- who was deeply influenced by the philosophical criticism coming from Germany around 1800 -- we have not seen a really fruitful interaction of these "sister arts." [...]

--Geoffrey Hartman, "Preface." Deconstruction and Criticism. Harold Bloom et al. New York: Continuum, 1979.

There are in fact two ways of reading a book: either we consider it a box which refers us to an outside, and in that case we look for the signified; if we are still more perverse or corrupted, we search for the signifier. And then we consider the following book as a box contained in the first one or containing it in turn. And we can comment, and interpret, and ask for explanations, we can write about the book and so on endlessly. Or the other way: we consider the book a small a-signfying machine; the only problem is "Does it work and how does it work? How does it work for you?" If it doesn't function, if nothing happens, take another book. This other way of reading is based on intensities: something happens or it doesn't happen. There is nothing to explain, nothing to understand, nothing to interpret.

--Gilles Deleuze, "I Have Nothing to Admit." Trans. Janis Forman. Semiotext(e), Anti-Oedipus 2, 3 (1977).