The Unconscious (n.) is not a process or a thing or a secret resistance to the law. It is the law itself, which creates subjects and imposes their impotence.
The Unconscious (n.) is not hidden, it is that which hides, that which carries itself out as its own operation, much like the smuggler who was suspected of stealing goods upon so many donkeys' backs across the border over the years, when in fact the whole time he was smuggling the donkeys.
The Unconscious (n.) is not secret resistance to the law, but the law itself.
The Unconscious (n.) is not some deep truth about myself that I have to identify with or conquer... it is an unbearable truth I have to live with.
The Unconscious (n.) is not some primitive substrata, it is the way in which conscious reflexivity relates to one's conscious attitudes.
The Unconscious (n.) is not the reservoir of wild drives but the site where a traumatic truth speaks.
The Unconscious (n.) is such a scandal not because our rationality is subordinated to the must vaster domain of blind irrational instincts, but because it obeys its own grammar and logic.
The Unconscious (n.) is the form of thought whose status is not thought itself.