Meaning (n.) is brought to life in discourse.
Meaning (n.) lies, for a statement, not in a treasure of hidden intentions but in the difference that sets it against the other statements beside it or before it.
Meaning (n.) in the Classical age could be nothing more than the totality of signs arranged in their progression — given in the complete table of signs.
Meaning (n.) is not produced through the free play of signifiers alone, but signification is constrained by and effected by historical context and power.
Meaning (n.) becomes for the history of ideas a great uniform text never yet articulated, revealing what men 'really meant' — beside which every actual statement looks like superabundant proliferation.
Meaning (n.) is not intrinsic to a sentence, nor even its absence: to call 'Colourless green ideas sleep furiously' meaningless, one must first rule out that it is a dream, a poem, a code, or the speech of a drug addict.
Meaning (n.) is the last thing people will let go of: dispossessed of their history, economics, language, and myths, they cling to the tender, consoling certainty of changing at least their 'meaning' with a fresh word that comes only from themselves.