EFTA02711291.pdf

III Disposable world. The world is a waste system. A disposal of categories and names. The world is no longer important. The world is no longer a thing: description is. ItaTMs a world of words. Words are finite: they signify nothing other than themselves. AceThe word must be the thing it represents. Otherwise it is a symbol. It is a question of identity:al there isnaTMt any. Thereirms no thinking subject: only words. Only descriptions. No thinking subject. Metaphysical I, instead: not a part, but a limit. A unitless unity. The physical, the phenomenal world is gone. We arc no longer a part of it. We never were a part of it. The world is finite: the objective world was no more real than the words that were its habit..1 A finite world of words: the world as limits of language. aceThe limits of my language mean the limits of my world.a3 No part, but limit. aceNo longer any refuge in the infinities of grandeur,a4 of the universe, of physicalized reality. No pan, but limit. Never forget this finiteness, this limit of man. Finite man: metaphysical I: unitless unity: no pan, but limit. It means that there is no longer any possible distinction between observer and observed. It means that we live in a new whole, a new reality, one that is slippery, one that is expressed in language but cannot be expressed by language. It means that aceobserving is completing and we are content in a world that shrinks to an immediate whole that we do not need to understand, complete without secret arrangements of it in the mind.as ficeThe same old fallacy persists1"the desire to introduce a unity in the world: the mythologists made it a woman or an elephant; the scientists made fun of the mythologists, but themselves turned the world into the likeness of a mechanical toy. One analogy is as good as anotherl The ficewords of the world are the life of the world.az It is the speech of truth in its true solitude: a nature that is created in what it says? The world is no longer important: true. The world is the only important thing to think about: true. The world: a closed door. AceA closed door slammed in the face of man. It is a barrier. And at the same time it is the way through:19 But through what? The physical world: an artifact, made or constructed of some basic, primary substance. The physical world is a created world: the production of something from nothing. The finite world, world of words: a new world, nonworld: everything must come from everything. Description is the thing: the world is created in what it says. Created: thus destroyed. The physical world is meaningless: acctransfer physical to language.a10 Finite man: acehe disposes the world in categories.aU A waste system: thereaTMs no getting rid of them without naming them, thataTMs the thing to keep in mind.12 Thus, any name, any definition or category empties the world as it creates it. It is a name EFTA_R1_02124807 EFTA02711291 that gives birth, gives life, while at the same time bringing separation and death. The world is a waste system of the unreal: nothing is left but the unreal. Just to name things. The death of the world: seethe icy words hail down upon me, the icy meanings, and the world dies too . . . all I know is what the words Icnow.fil3 Tired of the old words, the comfort words, bored with the old descriptions. All categories arc pseudo-categories. All categories, all concepts arc waste. Magic, myth, religion, art . . . ideology, science, literature: comfort words. There is no longer any possibility of objective points of support outside speech or thought. aceMeaning and necessity are preserved only in the linguistic practices which embody them.a" Thus, no meaning can be ascribed to ficeexisting world.fi It is ficeneither significant nor absurd. It is, quite simply. That is the most remarkable thing about it. And suddenly the obviousness of this strikes us with irresistible force. All at once the whole splendid construction collapses:V And the world born of the word goes back to the word. aceUniverse is not a very large expanding balloon with galactic light bulbs interspersed at varying distances.1 E= MC showed that aceUniverse is not a simultaneous assembly of things. Universe isnaTMt even iherea"in fact manaTMs invention of the concept reveals his terror crouching behind a facade of omniscience.P Universe: the most comprehensive world generalization. Universe isnaTMt there: it simply is. ItaTMs not a thing, or things: it is. ItaTMs not how things are in the world that is mystical, but that it exists?? We are deprived of our comfort words, our comfortable world. We are denied, everything is denied. Things no longer have any meaning. Things no longer exist. There is no longer the possibility of a universe of psychological, social, or functional signification. There is no longer the possibility of constructing a new objective world, even though it be more solid, more immediate. There is no longer the possibility of a single world, a whole world, a unified world. The unity is unitless: man is dead. This is a terrifying concept for man to contemplate. Absolutely terrifying. We have tried to force reality into a framework of space and time just as the ancients tried to place reality within a framework of emotions. It doesnatMt work. Witness the image of the earth as seen from the moon: night and day at the same time: all times all the time: no matter what the time. Times have changed. accEveryone talks about the Earth being round but does anyone actually believe it? Nature of roundness is that you eventually get back to the same placernowhere to goa"no infinity. Not condensation, but condensation of mind. We are all living through one of our most terrifying dream horror fantasies: WeaTMIC locked in a room, and the walls and ceilings are closing in on us. All the things weirmve been raised to worshipa"manaTMs limitless power, the ever-giving nature of mother eartha"all these infinite possibilities are beginning to seem less infinite. In fact, the infinite horizon is heading this way fastlim We caning even continue to talk of Earth: the place: a physical clump of dirt spinning around outer space: outside what. The world still goes spinning around, but itaTMs in my head. ItaTMs happening in my head. I do it all in my head. ItaTMs a finite world of words: ficewhere is this world . . . and what do I know of it? Where do I seize it? Where do I believe it? Where do I surrender myself to it entirely? Here! Or nowhere.1119 EFTA_R1_02124808 EFTA02711292 Words do not signify anything but their own reality. Words do not create the universe out of nothing but out of all. All possibilities exist in any: seethe whole story from Genesis to Apocalypse in any event; in any metamorphoses. Therefore it is important to keep changing the subject. The subject changes before our very eyes.A2') What is: is something else. Finite man: he has no interest in what exists. He has no time for what is. No beginning, no ending. He lives without life: the story of life. ItaTMs over: never began. ItaTMs not a physical death, a physical end. ItaTMs simply that Ancto tell a story has become strictly impossible:am ItaTMs a world of words: saying is inventing . . you invent nothing!' Saying makes it so:" Beyond the world: a world of words with no beyond. No psychic walls of lands. No incommunicable mass of weitTms. A finite world of words: a sense of limit, a limit which does not energize subject matter, but penetrates it, dissolves it, creating both dream and reality, life and death. A finite world of words: you canaTMt tell where the subject is, you caning tell what the subject is. Reject the world. Metaphysical I instead: no part, but limit. Reject the world. Reject man. Be faithful to the conception of a limit. The new finite view of man: the rejection of humanism (doctrine that man is the measure): a complete anthropomorphization of the world, whether pantheism, idealism, or rationalism. Reject man. Reject the world. Reject the thinking subject for limit, the limit of language, a world created in what it says. acelaTMm in words, made of words, otherirms words . . . IaTMm all these words, all these strangers.A24 Man is no longer necessary. Neither are you. Man is dead: he is totally deprived. Of himself, even of nothing. There is nowhere to go in the absurdity of his lifetime. Any new style, any new life, any new world, is but a god where gods are no longer valid. AceThe god that one so finds is but a word born of words, and returns to the word. For the reply we make to ourselves is assuredly never anything other than the question itselfle Reject world as unit. There is no phenomenal world as an external point of reference, of support. There is no possible communication between these illusory points. Communication is impossible: acethe thing said and the thing heard have a common source/Al(' And itaTMs not an inventing mind, a thinking subject. Metaphysical I instead: no part, but limit. Me: I do it all in my head: what head? ficeA world full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.a27 It points to nothing other than the fact that it is. ItaTMs not a metaphor. kers nothing you can believe in. It is. The moment you let it out of your head, itirms dead: itaTMs real. Reject life actin any number of a"worldsaTM or a`universes:TM or in trifling delusions such as a`past,aTM fpresent,aTM or tthwre.ATMa ItaTMs all denied. Finite man in a finite world. Or, finite man as finite world. The world is unintelligible. keit is impossible to include it all under one large counter such as rGodaTM or A-TruthaTm and other verbalisms, or the disease of the symbolic language.a2r All such words are comfort words. The world is unintelligible. There is no one way, no one. The world is unintelligible: the world is our intelligence. accHere, now, we forget each other and ourselves. We feel the absurdity of an order, a whole, a knowledge, that which arranged the rendezvous, within its vital EFTA_R1_02124809 EFTA02711293 boundary, in the mind.V9 Any definition empties the world as it creates it. Empties it of all life. Any definition of the world fixes it. If it is fixed, it is dead. Only by a name do we know what is dead. Only through a category do we comprehend the unreal. Names and categories, names and definitions: comfort words. And ficenothing has been changed except what is unreal, as if nothing had been changed at all.ail Disposable world: comfort words: thereaTMs no getting rid of them without naming them and their contraptions, thataTMs the thing to keep in mind. In a world with no signification, in a world where psychic, social, and functional resolution is impossible, in a world where life lies hidden in language . . . the fate of the author is to have nothing, absolutely nothing to say. The book is a lie, the words have no author. To live in this world beyond the world, a world of words with no beyond, the author does not write about the world. Any attempt to do so is merely another fiction in a world of fictions. The aim of the book must be to attract subtlety, to attract complexity. But then, this is not a book, it has nothing to do with books, with literature. It canaTMt be read: itaTMs performance. Performance without a player. The author has no intention of its meaning. ficeAll the notions by which we have lived are tottering. The sciences are calling the tune:132 Knowledge is now transitional. The real is no longer neatly delimited. Place, time, and matter admit of liberties that, not long ago, no one had an inkling of. Common sense is now appealed to only by the ignorant. The value of ordinary evidence is down to zero. What was once believed by all, always and everywhere, seems no longer to carry much weight." Knowledge is now transitional: harms something to forget. When knowledge enters the room, forget it. None of the categories work, all explanations are wrong. Description vs. explanation: explanation is always wrong. ItaTMs a world of words, of descriptions, and acedescription comes to an end, and we realize that it has left nothing behind it: it has instituted a double movement of creation and destruction.V4 Knowledge: the expression fleet° know everythinga has as its complement the word universe. But to know everything includes knowing that the universe isnaTMt even there. The universe is the big con. Our widest possible knowledge-world generalization has dissolved into metaphysical ha-ha. Universe is the big con. Physical theory is no longer ficerealitylt We got lost ficeonce speculation was concerned no longer with subphenomena assumed to be similar to the phenomena directly observed, but rather with ficethingsii that in no way resemble the things we know, since they only send us signals which we interpret as best we can. Plus our language, and our logic, our concepts have been found wanting: all this intellectual material will not fit into the nucleus of an atom, where everything is without precedent, without shape. Debatable probabilities have taken the place of definite and distinct facts and the fimdamental distinction between observation and its object is no longer conceivable:VI What in the world has happened? ficeSimply that our means of investigation and action have far outstripped our means of representation and understanding. This is the enormous new fact that results from all the other new facts. This one is positively transcendent:AY' ficeThe squirming facts exceed the squamous mind.V7 This new fact is positively transcendent. But in the new world, nonworld of this new fact, there can be no transcendence. The world is finite: it canaTMt fit into the terminology, into the EFTA_R1_02124810 EFTA02711294 constraints of humanistic consciousness. It will only be viewed there as an absence, as a negation of the terms and categories that inform Western man. ItaTms not explainable. It wonaTMt be defined. ItaTMs bereft of all the dogma of rationalism, of humanism. Forget it. No man is my friend. I have no interest in the human condition. No interest in you, your ideas, your words. No interest in your opinions. DonaTMt believe it. DonaTMt believe anything I say. Therein's nothing to say. I have nothing to say. mereaTMs nothing to think about. Disposable world: enigmatic world. Epistemological enigma: Acethe facts of inquiry dissolve into the reality of the enquirer, casting further doubt on both.0 The world is a waste system of extinct epistemologies. One is the great signifier: creator of all the comfort words: God, Truth, Humanity, Writer, etc. One is obsolete. We can no longer deal with single level definitions. It doesnaTMt follow that there are multiple level definitions either. There is no signification. One doesnaTMt signify. One obscures. There is no identity beyond the words that are its representation. There is no identity: words are what count. One musnaTMt let one get in the way. There can be no psychic, social, or functional resolution of all this. We must get back to the source. But there is no source. The source, the one reality is not to be found. There is no source. There is no answer. I beseech you enter your life. ace! beseech you learn to say a`I,aTM when I question you: For you are no part, but a whole. No portion, but a being.a39 A leap over the psychic walls of man. Drop the body: the physicalized conception of perception. Meditate the putrifying corpse. The discovery of the private individual form: thank God for the names of the body. Crashing through the personal psychic walls. I am out of my mind. aceThe lives lived in the mind are at an end. They never were. Were and are not. It is not to be believed/0 I am out of my mind. Out of the personal psyche. He was not a man yet he was nothing else. if in the mind, he vanished, taking there the mindaTMs own limits, like a tragic thing. Without existence, existing everywhere. Self-conscious option isnirmt enough: self-conscious option is too much. ThereaTms no thinking subject. Thus, itatms not a question of thinking. ItaTMs not a question of thinking but of that which is its intelligence. ItaTMs of intelligence that I must think. Description Acconce claimed to reproduce a pre-existing reality; it now asserts its creative function. It once made us see things, now it seems to destroy them, as if its intention to discuss them aimed only at blurring their contours, at making them incomprehensible, at causing them to disappear altogether.a42 Man is dead: but the humanist, the modern man instructed by EFTA_R1_02124811 EFTA02711295 the terms of liberal thought and conventions, will be completely unable to understand this uncompromising attitude of finiteness. The world is made up, not made. The world is created, and created things can no longer be considered as intermediaries leading to an infinity of other things. They are dead: they arc their own fictions, begin and end in themselves, live and die in themselves. Created things are dead. The life you live is a lie. The world you inhabit is a lie. There is no need for fiction in the world: the world is the only fiction. Personality is not the only way. The individual is one of the problems of our time. So, too, the mass of men. What to do about amount, what to do about quantity. Theyirmre nothing, starting from one. In a finite world, numbers cloning count: words do. mereãTMs no addition, no accretion, no infinite attainments. Nothing and everything, no one and everyone: man is dead. ficeThe mass is nothing. The number of men in a mass of men is nothing. The mass is no greater than the singular man of the mass.a4 Finite man, finite intelligence: control. Not in control, but as control, as reality, as intelligence. Finite intelligence: the mass is no greater than the singular man of the mass. Expect no life from the mass. Expect no voice from the people. Life is inexpressible. Life is inexcusable. ItaTMs getting much harder to live. hints getting much easier to accept the idea that keit is an illusion that we were ever alive.ad0 Life is a knowledge, not an existence. Life is disposing of the waste: names and categories. Name it: itaTMs dead. Then you live in those names and by those names. You live in those names and by those names when you live in the world. ItaTMs no longer possible to tell a story: life is a story. ItaTMs a story, a narrative series of pictures. A series of timeless tableaus, an infinitely successive series of nows. But this canaTMt be. It isnaTMt. aceA picture held us captive. And we could not get outside it, for it lay in our language and language seemed to repeat it to us inexorablyt The world is finite: that means ficeita isnirmt. We are free from the pictures and the lives lived in the mind are at an end. Words are what matter. IaTMm going out of my mind. IaTMm trying to hold on to my body, my life. ItaTMs a horrifying experience. aceWe had thought to control it by assigning it a meaning, but the world has only, little by little, lost all its life.e Man is dead. ltaTMs not enough to perish. One has to become unintelligible, almost ridiculous. ficeNo sign of life but life, itself, the presence of the intelligible in that which is created as its symbolic' Life is a knowledge, not an existence. Life is not lived, it is known. Known: not experienced. imagine, you had an experience. Disposable world. A reality of acedecreation: to make something created pass into the uncreatedt aceModem reality is a reality of decreation, in which our revelations are not the revelations of belief, but the precious portents of our own powers.a° EFTA_R1_02124812 EFTA02711296 To make something created pass into the untreated: no action, but realization. All created things are dead things. They belong to the world. aceWe participate in the creation of the world by decreating ourselves,a" by peopling the world with the dead images of mankind. The created world is a world of waste, of life. And life is the elimination of what is dead. We give names to things that cane flit be named: we create life, we create death. Creation: the waste system. ficeLife is the elimination of what is dead.a5i All these things. All these people. All these places. All this waste, this garbage: itaTMs me. There was never anyone, anyone but me, anything but me, talking to me of me.' aceWhen I dream and invent without a backward glance, am I not . . . Nature:1" Dispense with the notion of nature: a creative power that makes something from nothing. Nature is scenery built up by man. Man is dead. The unity is unitless. There is no continuity, no accretion, no incremental serial advances, no depth. There is no nature. There was never anyone but me talking to me of me. No nature: just a nature created in what it says. Dismiss yourself. Man is dead. mereaTMs no nature but Ikea fall, into the state of nature. The spirit, the human essence, hides, buried in the natural object: a'projectedaTM . the death of gods and the birth of poetry.a" A nature created in what it says. liceEach herb and each tree, mountain, hill, earth and sea, cloud, meteor and star, are men seen afar.ii" There arc no external points of support in reality. The unity is unitless: this is not just a rival to an objective reality. There is no real world: it is an illusion. The unity is unitless. This is the whole truth, and it can only be apprehended through its contrast with the illusion, the real world. Thus, iceman perceives in the world only what already lies within him; but to perceive what lies within him, man needs the world.li" Take the real out of the world and put it back where it belongs, where it always has been: realization. Any system that attempts to base a pattern of thought, or a linguistic practice, on some independent foundation in reality, is impossible. Any system is impossible. If these systems aceneed any justification, it must lie within them, because there are no independent points of support outside them. That kind of objectivism is an illusion, produced, no doubt, by the reassuring character of explanation, which is that any support that is needed comes from the center, man himself an But the center has dissolved. Man is dead: the great explainer, the great explanation. He has lost the center: he was the center, the whole in which he was contained. There can be no more explanations, no more worlds. There is no center, no source. You canaTMt explain what isnalMt there. Metaphysical I, nonphysical I: itaTMs kethe fault of pronouns, there is no name for me, no pronoun for me, all the trouble comes from that.i" No center, no source, no whole, no one: and now no me. What in the world do you do? acclaims a lot to expect of one creature that he should first behave as if he were not, then as if he were, before being admitted to that peace where he neither is, nor is not, and where the language dies that permits of such expressionsit" EFTA_R1_02124813 EFTA02711297 The physical world is no longer real. That rational, reasoned, objective world of classical science and humanistic thought is now positively mystical and occult. aceCombat all rationalist dogmas that stand in the way of a metaphysical univerself4 Man is dead. Metaphysical I instead. Not reality, but realization. Dismiss yourself. Let go: thereaTMs nothing lost. This is the age of unimportance. Reject world. Reject external reality: reject internal reality. Say no to yourself, to your great truths, to your great men, to your great books. Not revelations of belief, not the Capital Letters: Truth, God, Freedom, Justice, Will. . . but the precious portents of our own powers: the limits of my language mean the limits of my world. Finite man: he icemade a personal matter of what had before his time been treated in dogmatic form, dominated by tradition. He had no use for anything except evidence or observation scrupulously verified. What this amounted to was a refusal to attach to language any value derived merely from people or books . . his self tipped the balance.im No more great men, no more great books: his self tipped the balance. His realization was the balance: is the balance. But in a finite world, even the self is denied, reduced to an object. No more great men, no more great books . . . no more importance. Deny your ficeown validity . . . Surrender to the flux, to the drift towards a new and unthinkable order.P2 iccUproot yourself. Uproot yourself, socially and vegetatively. Exile yourself from every earthly country.fio No: negation is the only way, there is no way. The universe must be created out of all, not created from nothing. Created by negation for creating or not creating changes nothing. Changes nothing because all created things are unreal: are nothing. Negation is the only way: no. Finite man: he says no to everything in order to get at himself. Yet heaTMs not alive, heaTMs not himself. He lives in his image: the unreal. What is: is other things. Man is dead. He lives in his image: the unreal. iceHow can anyone be what one is? No sooner does the question occur to us than it takes us out of ourselves, and at once we see how impossible we are. Immediately we are astonished at being someone, at the absurdity of every individual fact of existence, at the curious effect of seeing our acts beliefs and persons duplicated; everything human is too humani"an oddity, a delusion, a reflex, a nonsense. The system of conventions becomes comic, sinister, unbearable to think of, almost unbelievable! Laws, religion, customs, clothes, beliefs . . . all seem curiosities, a masqueradelis Metaphysical I: of whom I know nothing. I donet know who I am. There is no signifiable reality. No one truth, no essence. Rims slippery: therein% nothing left to bold on to. We are completely deprived. You are totally denied. And I: I donaTMt know who I am. acelt has not yet been our good fortune to establish with any degree of accuracy what I am, where I am, whether I am words among words, or silence in the midst of silence.a43 I: words among words or silence in the midst of silence. The final answer will be in the transcendence of all categories, of all names: the death of the word. But this caning be so: there is no transcendence: no answer. World is finite: there is no distinction between observation and its object. Not reality, but realization. Transcendence belongs to the real, infinite world: EFTA_R1_02124814 EFTA02711298 reality. But there can be no transcendence of realization: no distinction between observation and its object. No differentiation: there was never anyone but me talking to me of me. And me: I go where the words go: nowhere. There is no final perfection, no answer. No one. ficcOur kind of innovation consists not in the answers, but in the true novelty of the questions themselves; in the statement of problems, not in their solutions.fio What is important is not ficeto illustrate a truthror even an interrogationi"known in advance, but to bring to the world certain interrogations . .. not yet known as such to themselvesP A total synthesis of all human knowledge will not result in fantastic amounts of data, or in huge libraries filled with books. Therein's no value any more in amount, in quantity, in explanation. For a total synthesis of human knowledge, use the interrogative. Ask the most subtle sensibilities in the world what questions they are asking themselves. The words have no author. aceThere are words better without an author, without a poet, or having a separate author, a different poet, an accretion from ourselves, intelligent, beyond intelligence, an artificial man.fi6'3 The words have no author. The book is a lie. ItaTMs a performance: by a reader. Reader is a comfort word and the author has no intention of its meaning. Author is a comfort word and the author has no intention of its meaning. An accretion from ourselves, intelligent, by an intelligence, an artificial man. Unreal realization: ficefreedom is like a man who kills himself each night, an incessant butcher.a" Artificial manaTMs not himself unreal realization. He is revealed, secularized as a thing, an object. aceHe has lost the whole in which he was containcd.tt' He has shed his human clothes. Just as the ancients peopled the universe, we have set out to empty it of all life. ItaTMs a finite world of words: there is no life in man, there is no existence in things, there is no evolution in nature. Man is dead: ficedrowned in the depth of things (of himself), man ultimately no longer even perceives them: his role is soon limited to experiencing, in their name, totally humanized impressions and desircs.a7' But there is no depth in things. Words are what count: the word must be the thing it represents. Words are finite: there can be no depth, no interiority. TherefiTms no perfection in humanity. Man was considered the perfect center in a world of infinite things, infinite depth. But man has been rooted out of his human home, disallowed his humanistic habit. Man is dead: he is ficethinged,a he is artificial: he mocks his own meaning, heaTMs not to be believed. But humanism attempts ficeto recover everything, including whatever attempts to retrace its limits, even to impugn it as a whole.O No matter what: there is man and his nature. And ficea common nature must be the eternal answer to the single question of our civilizationfi"only one possible answer to everything: man.fi This humanistic attitude is considered the inevitable attitude of the emancipated and instructed man. But answers are no answer: thereaTMs no perfection in humanity. ficeMan is an extraordinarily fixed and limited animal, whose nature is absolutely constant.P A veritable object. ficeMan is a sick animal:fi to think he can be cured is to ficeimprison him in the disease:a— What was an animal? It is the human that is alien, the human that has a cousin on the moon, kethe human that demands speech from beasts and the incommunicable mass.P EFTA_R1_02124815 EFTA02711299 The mass. The human mass. The impossible agglomerate mass. The incommunicable human mass. The people. ficeFrom their places masses move, stark as laws. Masses of what? One does not ask. There somewhere man is too, vast conglomerate of all of natureaTMs kingdoms, as lonely and as bound:az' The impossible people. The mass is nothing: the people arenfiTmt. ItaTMs the human that is alien. Man is dead: the men have no shadows. ficeA man is a result, a demonstration.fin An unreal realization. I am out of my mind. Beyond the I to something else. A place of nothing else and no beyond. I am out of my mind. Deprived even of my I. The I which becomes merely a more immediate object in the wasteland of objects. And ficethe role of objects is to restore silence, for objects are no more real than the words that are their habit4" I am out of my mind: am I words in the midst of words or silence in the midst of silence. The narrator is gone. The universe as a narrative story isnaTMt there. Evolution as a narrative story never happened: words are what matter. Evolution is a matter of the words used to describe it. There is no continuous, infinite, evolving world- universe-nature-knowledge waiting to be explained by man. ItaTMs a word of words: a nature created in what it says. The universe isnaTMt there. Man is dead. But ficeI can find no way of escape from what is not! Speech so fills us, fills everything with its images that we cannot think how to begin to refrain from imaginingrnothing is without it . . . Remember that tomorrow is a myth, that the universe is one; that numbers, love, the real and the infinite . . . that justice, the people, poetry . . . the earth itself are myths.a" The universe isnaTMt there. It is. DonaTMt believe any of this. Place no value in the book, in the author. ficePrivate authorship or ownership is not to be respected. It is all one bookie Give it up, the idea of an author, of truth. Give up all belief believe only in yourself. You: your experience is my experience. Me: aceitirms of me now that I must speak, even if I have to do it with their language.r Them: ficel slip into them . . . it is a stratum, strata, without debris or vestiges. But itaTMs a world filled with debris and vestiges: before I am done I shall find traces of what was.fi" What was: is me, acenever anyone but me talking to me of me, in words, made of words, otheraTMs words, what others . . . the whole world is here with met' Me: I (Iona-nit. I donirmt believe any of this. I canaTMt think of one anymore. This or that: I canaTMt differentiate anymore. I donaTMt believe it: I canaTMt think, ficeI must not try to think, simply utter.fi Saying makes it so. This, this and that: acel shall have to banish them in the end, the beings, shapes, sounds, and lights with which my haste to speak has encumbered this place.fil" The necessity of stopping before starting. The necessity to forget it all. Nobody knows, and you canaTMt find out. EFTA_R1_02124816 EFTA02711300