His near stammering. With disconcerting promptness one word hid behind another. -- Maurice Blanchot, Le Dernier Homme Contact me: red3ad (at) yahoo (dot) com



Came across this Proust blog via ibitsu, wch I found scrolling down after reading blah-feme's post on anger and the Other.


"...That is, a thing touches me -- or a word or a tone, a rhythm or a sentence, the beginning of a sentence first encountered, a fragment of a sentence -- and then it becomes a matter of expressing it; and then it begins, and then it stops somewhere, like water that flows back."
-- Jean Fremon, interview with Serge Gavronsky (in Toward a New Poetics: Contemporary Writing in France (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994).

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