Light (n.) removes being's resistance: to illuminate is already to empty space and grasp.
Light (n.) of essence, once thematized, presents itself in a light that is not seen but heard by the "eye that listens" — a resonance of silence.
Light (n.) makes objects into a world, that is, makes them belong to us — what comes from outside illuminated comes, in effect, from ourselves.
Light (n.) is solitude: what it illuminates means something, and so seems to come from me — in the understood universe I am alone.
Light (n.) is an epoché: the event of never compromising oneself with one's objects or one's history — even the history of the one who suspends it.
Light (n.) is produced as scintillation: consciousness fainting away at the very focal point of its luminousness.
Light (n.) is the third thing vision presupposes, besides the eye and the thing: the eye does not see the light but the object in it — light empties space and makes it arise as a void.
Light (n.) needs a light to be seen: the sun is only a figure of the absolute, still one more object; consciousness of radical exteriority needs something that comes absolutely from itself.