Absence (n.) is a genuine absence and not merely an absence of what is present even if what is present is truly absent... it is rather the absence of both absence and presence.
Absence (n.) is not derivative of presence, but instead presence is derivative of absence.
Absence (n.) is the space in which humankind creates itself as the representation of representation, as the possibility of writing.
Absence (n.) is what suits Rousseau best: if he were present, one would never know what he was worth.
Absence (n.) that matters is not the absence of this or that, but the absence of everything in which all presence is announced.
Absence (n.) is lost in being pronounced: to gain access to it is to lose it, to show it is to hide it.
Absence (n.) is never more itself than when the verb 'to be' is the word missing.
Absence (n.) is not a fading of presence but a break in it: the possibility of the addressee's death, written into the structure of the mark.
Absence (n.) gives immediacy to imagined possession, while the woman's presence would confront you with différance.