My Own Words Take Me By Surprise

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

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.

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.

We Should Be Sensitive To The Thread Of Silence From Which The Tissue Of Speech Is Woven.

Visible And Mobile, My Body Is A Thing Among Things; It's Caught In The Fabric Of The World, And Its Cohesion Is That Of A Thing. But, Because It Moves Itself And Sees, It Holds Things In A Circle Around Itself.