My plays are some sort of phone and the manifestation connected with nostalgia

My plays are some sort of phone and the manifestation connected with nostalgia

“How curious it is, exactly how curious the idea is usually, ” as they roulé-boulé in The Balding Soprano, no roots, simply no source, no authenticity, simply no, nothing, only unmeaning, together with absolutely no higher power—though often the Emperor turns up invisibly inside the Chairs, as from a “marvelous dream :::., the divino gaze, this noble face, the crown, the radiance of His / her Majesty, ” the Aged Man's “last recourse” (149–50), as they affirms, before he entrusts his meaning to the Orator plus throws himself out the window, departing us to be able to discover that the Orator is deaf and dumb. Thus the delusion associated with hierarchy and, spoken or maybe unspoken, the futile pride or vacuity of talk. But even more interested, “what a coincidence! ” (17) is how this particular bare datum of the particular Absurd grew to become the a lot of deconstruction, which hedges its bets, however, upon a devastating nothingness by simply letting metaphysics in immediately after presumably rubbing it out, of which is, putting it “under erasure” (sous rature), like Derrida does in their grammatology, conceding what Nietzsche advised us, that God is usually dead, but employing the statement anyhow, since we can rarely assume without it, or maybe various other transcendental signifiers, like attractiveness or eternity—which are really, certainly, the words spoken by the Old Man to help the hidden Belle inside The Chairs, mourning precisely what they didn't dare, a lost love

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