The Flesh Is At The Heart Of

The Body Is Our General Medium For Having A World.

Because We Are In The World, We Are Condemned To Meaning, And We Cannot Do Or Say Anything Without Its Acquiring A Name In History.

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.

To Ask For An Explanation Is To Explain The Obscure By The More Obscure.

Our View Of Man Will Remain Superficial So Long As We Fail To Go Back To That Origin [of Silence], So Long As We Fail To Find, Beneath The Chatter Of Words, The Primordial Silence, And As Long As We Do Not Describe The Action Which Breaks This Silence. The Spoken Word Is A Gesture, And Its Meaning, A World.