The Thing (n.) is paradoxical in that it exists only insofar as someone can perceive it. This is because, rather than being some kind of ideal unity, the thing is in fact nothing more than a totality open to a horizon of indefinite number of perspectival views which blend with one another according to a given style.
A Thing (n.) is anything upon which our body has a 'grip'.
Thing (n.) is a matter of where you look: if we saw the gaps between things as things, it would not be the same world rearranged but another world altogether.
Thing (n.) is real precisely because it slips from our grasp: if we ever reached the thing itself, it would be laid out before us, stripped of mystery, and cease to be a thing.
Thing (n.) is not a blank substrate holding properties but a single accent heard in all of them: glass's brittleness, hardness, transparency and ring translate one way of being.
Thing (n.) carries its meaning as the soul inhabits the body — not behind its appearances but animating them, which is why perception gives us the thing "in the flesh".
Thing (n.) looked at with disinterested metaphysical attention, turns hostile and alien — no longer a partner in dialogue but a resolutely silent Other.
A Thing (n.) like a piece of wood is neither colours plus textures nor even their gestalt but something from which a woody essence emanates, a style its sensory givens modulate.