We Make A Space Inside Ourselves, So

Tell Me How You Read And I'll Tell You Who You Are.

Longing Is The Agony Of The Nearness Of The Distant.

The Senses Do Not Enable Us To Cognize Any Entity In Its Being; They Merely Serve To Announce The Ways In Which 'external' Things Within-the-world Are Useful Or Harmful For Human Creatures Encumbered With Bodies....they Tell Us Nothing About Entities In Their Being.

In The Work Of Art The Truth Of An Entity Has Set Itself To Work. ‘to Set’ Means Here: To Bring To A Stand. Some Particular Entity, A Pair Of Peasant Shoes, Comes In The Work To Stand In The Light Of Its Being. The Being Of The Being Comes Into The Steadiness Of Its Shining. The Nature Of Art Would Then Be This: The Truth Of Being Setting Itself To Work.

Being Is An Issue For One.