When Silence Confronts Us, The Question To

I've Always Been Suspicious Of Collective Truths. I Think An Idea Is True When It Hasn't Been Put Into Words And That The Moment It's Put Into Words It Becomes Exaggerated. Because The Moment It's Put Into Words There's An Abuse, An Excess In The Expression Of The Idea That Makes It False.

To Tear Ourselves Away From The Everyday, From Habit, From Mental Laziness Which Hides From Us The Strangeness Of Reality, We Must Receive Something Like A Real Bludgeon Blow.

Everything That Has Been Will Be, Everything That Will Be Is, Everything That Will Be Has Been.

For Me, It Is As Though At Every Moment The Actual World Had Completely Lost Its Actuality. As Though There Was Nothing There; Asthough There Were No Foundations For Anything Or As Though It Escaped Us. Only One Thing, However, Is Vividly Present: The Constant Tearing Of The Veil Of Appearances; The Constant Destruction Of Everything In Construction. Nothing Holds Together, Everything Falls Apart.

Logic Is A Very Beautiful Thing. As Long As It Is Not Abused.