Saturday, 25 August 2012

“I shall never account, verbally, for the excesses of my sentiment.  Having said nothing of the ravages of this anxiety, I can always, once it has passed, reassure myself that no one has guessed anything.  The power of language: with my language I can do everything: even and especially say nothing. 

I can do everything with my language, but not with my body.  What I hide by my language, my body utters.  I can deliberately mold my message, not my voice.  By my voice, whatever it says, the other will recognize “that something is wrong with me.”  I am a liar (by preterition), not an actor.  My body is a stubborn child, my language is a very civilized adult…”

—Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse