The Voice (n.) is pure auto-affection: hearing oneself speak seems to reduce even the inward surface of one's body.
The Voice (n.) stands closest to the signified: it is the first signifier, not just one signifier among others.
The Voice (n.) alone is free in the newborn, whose first gifts are fetters and whose first treatment is torture.
The Voice (n.) transgresses space and places souls in communication, which is what lifts it above animality.
The Voice (n.) forces its way into us, the privileged route for entry and interiorization, because the ear cannot be closed as the eye can.
The Voice (n.) is where the object disappears: its acoustic sign takes the place of the thing and lodges deeper in us than the thing itself.
The Voice (n.) is what writing enervates: to say everything as one would write it would be merely to read aloud.
The Voice (n.) carries an authority essentially coordinated with the whole Hegelian system, and phonetic writing ranks by its nearness to it.
The Voice (n.) that only forbids and never bids is the one a man obeys without thinking.
The Voice (n.) that outlives the representative voice is authorless: a phonic tracing that no thought can entirely cover.