47 Quotes by Maurice Blanchot

Art is not religion, 'it doesn't even lead to religion.' But in the time of distress which is ours, the time when the gods are missing, the time of absence and exile, art is justified, for it is the intimacy of this distress: the effort to make manifest, through the image, the error of the imaginary, and eventually the ungraspable, forgotten truth which hides behind the error.

Mon être ne subsiste que sous un point de vue suprême qui est justement incompatible avec mon point de vue. La perspective dans laquelle je m’évanouis à mes yeux, me restaure, image complète, pour l’œil irréel auquel j’interdis toute image. Image complète par rapport à un monde sans image qui me figure dans l’absence de toute figure imaginable. Être d’un non-être dont je suis l’infime négation qu’il suscite comme sa profonde harmonie. Dans la nuit deviendrais-je l’univers?

How not to search that space where, for a time span lasting from dusk to dawn, two beings have no other reason to exist than to expose themselves totally to each other- totally, integrally, absolutely- so that their common solitude may appear not in front of their own eyes but in front of ours, yes, how not to look there and how not to rediscover "the negative community, the community of those who have no community"?

The authentic answer is always the question’s vitality. It can close in around the question, but it does so in order to preserve the question by keeping it open.

What does it remember? Itself, death as memory. An immensememory in which one dies.First to forget. To remember only where one remembers nothing.To forget: to remember everything as though by way of forgetting. There isa profoundly forgotten point from which every memory radiates. Everything is exalted in memory from something which is forgotten, an infinitesimal detail, a minuscule fissure into which it passes in its entirety.

On eût dit qu'en parlant un langage dont le caractère enfantin ne permettait pas qu'on le tînt pour un langage, elle donnait aux mots insignifiants l'aspect de mots incompréhensibles. Elle ne disait rien, mais ne rien dire était pour elle un mode d'expression trop significatif, au-dessous duquel elle réussissait à moins dire encore.

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

We cannot do anything with an object that has no name.

Lo que atrae al escritor, lo que hace vibrar al artista, no es directamen­te la obra, sino su búsqueda, el movimiento que conduce a ella, la aproximación de lo que hace posible a la obra: el arte, la literatura y lo que disimulan estas dos palabras. - El libro que vendrá.(p. 223)