The World Is Nothing But 'world-as-meaning.

Language Transcends Us And Yet We Speak.

The Photograph Keeps Open The Instants Which The Onrush Of Time Closes Up Forthwith; It Destroys The Overtaking, The Overlapping, The Metamorphosis Of Time.

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

I Will Never Know How You See Red And You Will Never Know How I See It. But This Separation Of Consciousness Is Recognized Only After A Failure Of Communication, And Our First Movement Is To Believe In An Undivided Being Between Us.

I May Speak Many Languages, But There Remains One In Which I Live.