Definitions HQ

A Sign (n.) in ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the sixteenth century was itself only a resemblance — a likeness that pointed to another likeness, which pointed to a third.

The Sign (n.) and ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠man cannot share a room: where a sign appears, man cannot be, and where signs are made to speak, man falls silent.

A Sign (n.) belongs ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠to the irreducible network that the language of action, despite its name, calls into existence — the network that separates language from action.

The Sign (n.) became ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠in anatomo-clinical medicine a detour around the silence of symptoms: not an expressive symptom but a stand-in for the symptom's basic failure to express.

The Sign (n.) no ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠longer speaks the natural language of disease; it can be solicited, almost manufactured, where the examiner's gestures meet the sick organism.

The Sign (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠naively assumed to be always already there, stamped on the world or made by men; nobody asks what it means that there are signs at all.

The Sign (n.) announces ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠— what will happen, what has happened, what is happening now — pointing through the invisible to what lies further off, beneath, later: blue nails foretell death without fail.

A Sign (n.) in ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠Classical thought does not erase distances or abolish time; it unfolds them so they can be traversed step by step. Western reason is entering the age of judgement.

A Sign (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a representation that must also represent its own representing — which is why Port-Royal's first example is not the word or the cry but the map and the picture.

The Sign (n.) was ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠worth more to Laennec the smaller it was: marginal, almost imperceptible, it cuts diagonally through the disease's visible body and reaches its nature at a stroke, speaking alone and beyond error.

A Sign (n.) need ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠not resemble what it signifies: a cry is a spontaneous sign of fear but no copy of it, and for Berkeley sight is God's sign for touch without resembling it at all.

The Sign (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the symptom itself read in its original truth: there is no sign without a symptom, yet what makes a sign a sign comes from elsewhere — a consciousness that compares, remembers and counts.

A Sign (n.) from ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the seventeenth century on does not wait in silence for someone to recognize it: there can be no unknown sign, no mute mark — a sign is constituted only by an act of knowing.

A Sign (n.) posed ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a new question after 1600: the Renaissance asked how we know a sign designates what it signifies; the seventeenth century began to ask how a sign could be linked to what it signifies at all.