A Subject (n.) of being is made not by assuming being but by enjoying happiness — an "above being."
A Subject (n.) is a power to withdraw without end — always able to find oneself standing behind whatever happens to us.
A Subject (n.) is a sub-jectum: under the weight of the universe, responsible for everything.
The Subject (n.) when thinking is for ontology only a detour being's essence takes in order to get arranged and appear in truth.
A Subject (n.) of saying is a concave without a convex: it does not give signs, it becomes a sign.
A Subject (n.) is but the divergence between subject and predicate in the speculative proposition.
A Subject (n.) could be a lung at the bottom of its substance — suffering and offering itself to the invisible air before taking a foothold in being.
The Subject (n.) as a noun is someone — one who, when no one else is there, is summoned to be someone and cannot slip out of the summons.
The Subject (n.) when conscious is one with no alliance with what it is conscious of, feeling that any kinship with its object compromises its truth.
A Subject (n.) has a latent birth: anachronous, prior to its own present, a non-beginning — born in obligation where no commitment was made.
A Subject (n.) is never one with the idea it has of itself — Kant saw that inner sense shows us only a subject already transformed into an object.
A Subject (n.) is already deposed in its very position — unseated by a wordless accusation it cannot answer in words, though it cannot deny its responsibility.
A Subject (n.) for the idealists is the paradoxical something which is not — it differs from a thing not by any property but by its very manner of being-there.
The Subject (n.) human, me, is called to responsibility on the brink of tears and laughter, not as an avatar of nature or a moment of the concept.
A Subject (n.) is an atom without rest in itself, "more and more one," to the point of fission — exposed outside by breathing, divesting itself down to the mucous membrane of the lungs.
A Subject (n.) is he who has lost his place: without that loss the I stays a firm point; here the last remaining point is dis-appointed.
A Subject (n.) in its modern form was born of the cogito — and its whole problem boils down to: how does the subject take leave of itself to reach the object?
A Subject (n.) is never a pure activity, never in relaxed possession of itself — more is always asked of him; the more just he is, the more harshly he is judged.
A Subject (n.) capable of objectivity must in a sense not yet be born — not yet in nature; this "not yet" is not a lesser being but time.