Repetition (n.) can bring back only the "how" of what has been, never its "what".
Repetition (n.) means letting the same become a distress again from a more originary truth — "again" here says precisely "totally other."
Repetition (n.) is authentic having-been: running ahead, Dasein brings itself forth again into its ownmost possibility.
Repetition (n.) of a question, said over and over, does not keep the questioning alive — it may well blunt it.
Repetition (n.) is the proper way of dealing with heritage; to take over some possibility as one’s own.
Repetition (n.) is only possible in a moment of vision that disavows the they by anchoring oneself in a deeper possibility that comes from one’s hero.
Repetition (n.) is possible only of what is unique — not the stupid superficiality of the same thing happening a second and third time.
Repetition (n.) neither surrenders itself to the past nor strives for progress; in the moment of vision, authentic existence is indifferent to either.
Repetition (n.) of an inception is not shrinking back to imitate something familiar but beginning it again more originally, with all the strangeness, darkness, and insecurity a genuine beginning brings.
Repetition (n.) of the first beginning is not a return to the past but a distancing from it — without that distance we stay insidiously too close, pinned down by what issued from it.
Repetition (n.) is not doing the past over again but going back into the possibilities of those who have been there — the possibility that Dasein may choose its hero.
Repetition (n.) are what an external, fragmentary reader finds everywhere; what is hardest is persevering with the same — while progressing through ever-new "materials" comes naturally.
Repetition (n.) does not bring the past back nor bind the present to what has been outstripped; it answers the past with a rejoinder — and at the same time disavows what passes for 'the past' today.