Maurice BlanchotThinkers

Absence is the force of language.

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Art is inherently a refusal of the historical place (the polis) of a specific people: ‘[the poet] belongs to the foreign, to the outside which knows no intimacy or limit, and to the separation which Hölderlin names when in his madness he sees rhythm’s infinite space.

Boredom is the decay of waiting.

Death is an impossibility since we never ourselves experience death.

The Disaster , rather than putting me into question, annuls the question, makes it disappear, making me too disappear in the disaster which never appears.

Forgetting is the very essence of memory: The primordial divinity.

Friedrich Holderlin is a writer who, in a present that was null, companionless, having nothing to say and nothing to do except this very nothing, was deeply aware of existing only in waiting, in movement held above its nothingness.

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