The Pharmakon (n.) is a double-edged word, and the absence of the word pharmakos is part of the text's play.
The Pharmakon (n.) is neither the cure nor the poison, neither good nor evil, neither speech nor writing.
The Pharmakon (n.) is a drug that cures and poisons alike, and it is what Plato named the art of writing.
A Pharmakon (n.) lures you out of your place, as a carrot dangled before a hungry animal drives it on.
The Pharmakon (n.) is antisubstance: that which resists every philosopheme, exceeding its bounds as nonidentity, nonessence, nonsubstance.
The Pharmakon (n.) is indissociably a signifier and a concept signified, which no single translation can split.
The Pharmakon (n.) acts like the outside itself, so it never has a definable virtue of its own.
The Pharmakon (n.) is the enemy of the living in general, healthy or sick alike.
The Pharmakon (n.) always penetrates like a liquid: it marks the inside, then invades and inundates it with its medicine and its poison.
The Pharmakon (n.) serves equally the seed of life and the seed of death, childbirth and abortion.
The Pharmakon (n.) is the same precisely because it has no identity.
The Pharmakon (n.) carries a double, contradictory value that derives from its syntax, as the hymen does.