Each time this identity announces itself, someone or something cries: Look out for the trap, youre caught. Take off, get free, disengage yourself.
I always dream of a pen that would be a syringe.
These years of the Ecole Normale were an ordeal. Nothing was handed to me on the first try.
To pretend, I actually do the thing: I have therefore only pretended to pretend.
Beyond the touchline there is nothing.
Even if we're in a state of hopelessness, a sense of expectation is an integral part of our relationship to time. Hopelessness is possible only because we do hope that some good, loving someone could come. If that's what Heidegger meant, then I agree with him.