The Flesh Is At The Heart Of

Language Transcends Us And Yet We Speak.

Thought Without Language, Says Lavelle, Would Not Be A Purer Thought; It Would Be No More Than The Intention To Think. And His Last Book Offers A Theory Of Expressiveness Which Makes Of Expression Not "a Faithful Image Of An Already Realized Interior Being, But The Very Means By Which It Is Realized.

Like The Weaver, The Writer Works On The Wrong Side Of His Material. He Has Only To Do With The Language, And It Is Thus That He Suddenly Finds Himself Surrounded By Sense.

Being Established In My Life, Buttressed By My Thinking Nature, Fastened Down In This Transcendental Field Which Was Opened For Me By My First Perception, And In Which All Absence Is Merely The Obverse Of A Presence, All Silence A Modality Of The Being Of Sound, I Enjoy A Sort Of Ubiquity And Theoretical Eternity, I Feel Destined To Move In A Flow Of Endless Life, Neither The Beginning Nor The End Of Which I Can Experience In Thought, Since It Is My Living Self Who Think Of Them, And Since Thus My Life Always Precedes And Survives Itself.

My Own Words Take Me By Surprise And Teach Me What To Think.