Express only that which cannot be expressed. Leave it unexpressed)

The Journal is not essentially a confession, a story about oneself. It is a Memorial. What does the writer have to remember? Himself, who he is when he is not writing, when he is living his daily life, when he is alive and real, and not dying and without truth.

What if what has been said one time not only does not cease to be said but always recommences, and not only recommences but also imposes upon us the idea that nothing has ever truly begun, having from the beginning begun by beginning again.

The disaster ruins everything, all the while leaving everything intact.

To see was terrifying, and to stop seeing tore me apart from my forehead to my throat.

To write is to make oneself the echo of what cannot cease speaking - and since it cannot, in order to become its echo I have, in a way, to silence it. I bring to this incessant speech the decisiveness, the authority of my own silence.

But my silence is real. If I hid it from you, you would find it again a little farther on.