Dialogue (n.) that is real would have more silence than talk — above all, silence about silence.
Dialogue (n.) is determined by what speaks to those who only seem to be the speakers — men.
Dialogue (n.) between thinking and poetry aims at calling forth the nature of language, so that mortals may learn anew to dwell within language.
Dialogue (n.) with one's forebears is what every thinker conducts — and perhaps even more, in a more hidden way, with those who will come after him.
Dialogue (n.) that turns out well does not lose the undefinable; it lets it display its gathering force ever more luminously.
Dialogue (n.) lives by leading its speakers into the unspoken; conversation slithers along the edges of the subject without ever getting involved in it.
Dialogue (n.) in philosophy forgets in its journal wars the one hardest task: driving one's own existence and others' into a fruitful questionableness.
Dialogue (n.) need not seem strange to us Japanese when it leaves undefined what is really meant — or even gives it back into the keeping of the undefinable.
Dialogue (n.) can destroy the very thing it is about: the language of the conversation kept wrecking the chance of saying what the conversation meant.
Dialogue (n.) with the Greek thinkers and poets — not a renaissance, not antiquarian curiosity — is the precondition of the inevitable dialogue with the East Asian world.
Dialogue (n.) between thinking and poetry looks to literary scholars like an unscientific violation of the facts and to philosophers like a helpless lapse into fantasy — while destiny goes its way untroubled.