The Photograph Keeps Open The Instants Which

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.

The Perceived World Is The Always-presupposed Foundation Of All Rationality, All Value, And All Existence.

It Is The Essence Of Certainty To Be Established Only With Reservations.

Lichtenberg ... Held Something Of The Following Kind: One Should Neither Affirm The Existence Of God Nor Deny It. ... It Is Not That He Wished To Leave Certain Perspectives Open, Nor To Please Everyone. It Is Rather That He Was Identifying Himself, For His Part, With A Consciousness Of Self, Of The World, And Of Others That Was "strange" (the Word Is His) In A Sense Which Is Equally Well Destroyed By The Rival Explanations.

My Hold On The Past And The Future Is Precarious And My Possession Of My Own Time Is Always Postponed Until A Stage When I May Fully Understand It, Yet This Stage Can Never Be Reached, Since It Would Be One More Moment Bounded By The Horizon Of Its Future, And Requiring In Its Turn, Further Developments In Order To Be Understood.