Through Silence

el recuerdo del silencio me lleva el alma a sentirse…

Unreal Nature

… the evidence of a particular silence reaches us like a surprise that is not always a repose: a perceptible silence, sometimes masterly, sometimes proudly indifferent, sometimes agitated, animated and joyful.

This is from the essay ‘Death of the Last Writer’ found in The Book to Come by Maurice Blanchot (1959; 2003):

… it is a langauge: it speaks, it doesn’t stop speaking, it is like the void that speaks, a light murmuring, insistent, indifferent, that is probably the same for everyone, that is without secret and yet isolates each person, separates him from the others, from the world and from himself, leading him through mocking labyrinths, drawing him always farther away, by a fascinating repulsion, below the ordinary world of daily speech.

The strangeness of this langauge is that it seems to say something, while it might be saying nothing. Further, it seems that profundity speaks in it, and…

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