I Love Language As I Love Life

I Would Like To Write You So Simply, So Simply, So Simply. Without Having Anything Ever Catch The Eye, Excepting Yours Alone, ... So That Above All The Language Remains Self-evidently Secret, As If It Were Being Invented At Every Step, And As If It Were Burning Immediately

To Pretend, I Actually Do The Thing: I Have Therefore Only Pretended To Pretend.

But Can One Not Conceive Of A Presence, And Of A Presence To Itself Of The Subject Before Speech Or Signs, A Presence To Itself Of The Subject In A Silent And Intuitive Consciousness? Such A Question Therefore Presupposes That, Prior To The Sign, And Outside It, Excluding Any Trace And Any Différance, Something Like Consciousness Is Possible.

I’m No Good For Anything Except Taking The World Apart And Putting It Together Again (and I Manage The Latter Less And Less Frequently).

Each Time This Identity Announces Itself, Someone Or Something Cries: Look Out For The Trap, Youre Caught. Take Off, Get Free, Disengage Yourself.