Speech Is Not A Means In The

My Own Words Take Me By Surprise And Teach Me What To Think.

I May Speak Many Languages, But There Remains One In Which I Live.

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.

Thought Without Language, Says Lavelle, Would Not Be A Purer Thought; It Would Be No More Than The Intention To Think. And His Last Book Offers A Theory Of Expressiveness Which Makes Of Expression Not "a Faithful Image Of An Already Realized Interior Being, But The Very Means By Which It Is Realized.