The set of unhappy families would, I suppose, be an example of what Wittgenstein calls a family, since each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, this not evidently preventing them from each being called an unhappy family. And happy families, being all alike, perhaps compose a class that is closed under
necessary and sufficient conditions.
… a mad crackpot genius named Wittgenstein who believed that everything was words. Really. If your car would not start, it was apparently to be
understood as a language problem. If you were unable to love, you were lost in language.
The aspects of things that are most important for us are
hidden because of their simplicity and familiarity. (One is unable to
notice something—because it is always before one’s eyes.) The real
foundations of his enquiry do not strike a man at all. Unless that fact
has at some time struck him.—And this means: we fail to be struck
by what, once seen, is most striking and most powerful.
But if you say: “How am I to know what he means, when I see nothing but the signs he gives?”
then I say: “How is he to know what he means, when he has nothing but the signs either?”
“I am sitting with a philosopher in the garden; he says again
and again, ‘I know that that’s a tree’, pointing to a tree that
is near us. Someone else arrives and hears this, and I tell
him: ‘This fellow isn’t insane. We are only doing
I should have liked to produce a good book. This has not come
about, but the time is past in which I could improve it.
Roughly speaking: to say of two things that they are identical is nonsense, and to say of one thing that it is identical with itself is to say nothing.
For how can I go so far as to try to use language to get between pain and its expression?