For poetry makes nothing happen: it survives In the valley of its making where executives Would never want to tamper, flows on south From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs, Raw towns that we believe and die in; it survives, A way of happening, a mouth.
Philosophy is the invention of strange forms of argumentation,
necessarily bordering on sophistry, which remains its dark
structural double. To philosophize is always to develop an idea
whose elaboration and defence require a novel kind of
argumentation, the model for which lies neither in positive
science – not even in logic – nor in some supposedly innate faculty
for proper reasoning.
A. Boghossian – Untitled
And ruled by dead men never met,
By pious guess deluded,
Upon the stool of madness set
Or stool of desolation,
Sits murderous and clear-headed;
Enormous beauties round him move,
For grandiose is his vision
And grandiose his love.
H. Fuseli – The Nightmare