The Neighbor is monstrous. He is the (evil) thing which potentially lurks beneath every homely human face.
The Neighbor is representative of one's incapacity for solitude, insofar as we run to our neighbor either looking for ourselves or to loose ourselves.
The Neighbor is one through which one define's oneself. If my neighbor is bad, then he is bad to himself, but good to me, for he brings my good temper 'into play'.
The Neighbor is one who is equal... he is neither the beloved, for whom you have passion's preference, nor your friend, for whom you have passion's preference.
The Neighbor is he beneath whom lurks the unfathomable abyss of radical otherness, of a monstrous thing that cannot be domesticated.
The Neighbor is a creature which seems perfectly harmless, but as soon as it somehow, invisibly, gets into your ears, it begins to develop, it hatches, and cases have been known where it has penetrated into the brain and flourished there devastatingly, like the pneumococci in dogs which gain entrance through the nose.
The Neighbor is a creature which at first appears perfectly harmless, but which, like some insect, penetrates into your brain hatches there and flourishes there devastatingly.
The Neighbor is not some mirror for one, offering self-realization through the other. Rather, the neighbor is an impenetrable, enigmatic presence that hystericizes me.