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'If man will strike, strike through the mask! How can the prisoner reach outside except by thrusting through the wall? To me, the white wale is that wall, shoved near to me. Sometimes I think there's naught beyond. But 'tis enough. (..) That inescrutable thing is chiefly what I hate; and be the white whale agent, or be the white whale principal, I will wreak that hate upon him. Talk not to me of blasphemy, man; I'd strike the sun if it insulted me.' Moby Dick
'Surely this was a touch of fine philosophy; tough no doubt he never heard there was such a thing as that. But, perhaps, to be true philosophers, we mortals should not be conscious of so living or so striving. So soon as I hear that such or such a man gives himself out for a philosopher, I conclude that, like the dyseptic old woman, he must have "broken his digester".' Moby Dick
Estoy convencido de que la palabra muerte no existe, o no debería de existir. Toda palabra presupone una experiencia compartida. Si hablo de amor, hablo de algo concreto, algo posible de vivir. ¿Qué es la muerte? La muerte es lo inasible; todo el que la toca desaparece. Muerte es la única no-palabra. La muerte no significa nada.