Unreason (n.) is in the same relation to reason as dazzlement to the brightness of daylight itself.
Unreason (n.) in the classical age is not reason diseased, lost, or alienated, but quite simply reason dazzled.
Unreason (n.) can surface only for an instant: when language enters silence, when delirium itself falls still, when the heart is at last devoured.
Unreason (n.) was a noun for classicism, not an adjective: not a symptom of madness but the substance of which madness was only the empirical form.
Unreason (n.) names all that is, for reason, closest and most remote, emptiest and most complete — familiar enough to found a science, forever retreating into nothingness.
Unreason (n.) in the Enlightenment's schemers with "cracked heads" was reason's darkened mirror: a double in which reason, at its triumph, both recognized and revoked itself.
Unreason (n.) became the world's contratempo after 1800, plunging with Hölderlin, Nerval and Nietzsche toward the roots of time, while knowledge of madness tied it ever tighter to history and nature.
Unreason (n.) turned through Sade and Goya from non-being into the power to annihilate — giving the West the chance to transcend its reason in violence and recover tragic experience beyond the promises of dialectic.
Unreason (n.) threatened the classical age not with a slide into determinism but with being swallowed by a darkness — an absolute freedom that classical rationalism guarded against better than our positivism.
Unreason (n.) joined illness in the realm of the fantastic, not of medical rigor: the old specters of leprosy did the synthesizing long before anyone asked how pathological the unreasonable is.