Express Only That Which Cannot

But My Silence Is Real. If I Hid It From You, You Would Find It Again A Little Farther On.

Weak Thoughts, Weak Desires: He Felt Their Force.

The Less Manifest The Work, The Stronger: As Though A Secret Law Demanded It Always Be Hidden In What It Shows, Thus Showing What Must Remain Hidden, Only Showing It, In The End, By Dissimulation.

Literature Professes To Be Important While At The Same Time Considering Itself An Object Of Doubt. It Confirms Itself As It Disparages Itself. It Seeks Itself: This Is More Than It Has A Right To Do, Because Literature May Be One Of Those Things Which Deserve To Be Found But Not To Be Sought.

To Write Is To Make Oneself The Echo Of What Cannot Cease Speaking - And Since It Cannot, In Order To Become Its Echo I Have, In A Way, To Silence It. I Bring To This Incessant Speech The Decisiveness, The Authority Of My Own Silence.