"Still, to talk about language is presumably worse than to write about silence. We do not wish to assault language in order to force it into the grip of ideas already fixed beforehand. We do not wish to reduce the nature of language to a concept, so that this concept may provide a generally useful view of language that will lay to rest all further notions about it.
To discuss language, to place it, means to bring it to its place of being not so much language as ourselves: our own gathering into the appropriation.”
From “The Soul of Anaesthesia”
"At the height of pandemonium a man with a machine gun sits in a cage suspended from the ceiling and moving like a trolley spatters bullets into the cells. This is the world on the inside at the height of frenzy. In some other place some one is asking in a weary voice if the griddle cakes are hot, the coffee still warm. In the dark, and quite unwittingly perhaps, someone steps on a beetle, one of those exoskeletonized little creatures of God, and squashes the life out of it. In an amphitheatre, under a spotlight, a man with extraordinarily clean hands begins to explore the entrails of a warm human body in order to find the tainted meat he wants to cut away. One life is saved in order that a thousand be extinguished."