Perhaps words themselves, in the most secret place of thought, are its matter, its timbre, its nuance, i.e. what it cannot manage to think. Words ‘say’, sound, touch, always ‘before’ thought.
J.-F. LYOTARD, The Inhuman (1988 /1991)
∵
Perhaps words themselves, in the most secret place of thought, are its matter, its timbre, its nuance, i.e. what it cannot manage to think. Words ‘say’, sound, touch, always ‘before’ thought.
J.-F. LYOTARD, The Inhuman (1988 /1991)
∵