No permanence is ours; we are a wave That flows to fit whatever form it finds: Through day or night, cathedral or the cave We pass forever, craving form that binds. – Hermann Hesse, from “Lament,” The Glass Bead Game: A Novel. (Picador; First edition, December 6, 2002) Originally published 1943. Advertisements
Silence is inside the word as something to be read. — Edmond Jabès, Edmond Jabès (Wesleyan University Press, 1991)
To become imperceptible oneself, to have dismantled love in order to become capable of loving. To have dismantled one’s self in order finally to be alone and meet the true double at the other end of the line. A clandestine passenger on a motionless voyage. To become like everybody else; but this, precisely, is a… Continue reading Gilles Deleuze
I am not a person with whom it is advisable to link one’s fate. — Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace. (Routledge; Complete English ed. edition November 14, 2002)
Death is not an event in life: we do not live to experience death. If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but timelessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present. Our life has no end in the way in which our visual field has no limits. ― Ludwig… Continue reading Ludwig Wittgenstein
“I am free,” he said suddenly. And his joy changed, on the spot, to a crushing sense of anguish. — Jean-Paul Sartre, The Reprieve: A Novel. (Vintage; Reprint edition, July 7, 1992) Originally publiswhed 1945.
How can another see into me, into my most secret self, without my being able to see in there myself? And without my being able to see him in me. And if my secret self, that which can be revealed only to the other, to the wholly other, to God if you wish, is a… Continue reading Jacques Derrida