“For let it go how it will, he said, God speaks in the least of creatures. The kid thought him to mean birds or things that crawl but the expriest, watching, his head slightly cocked, said: No man is give leave of that voice. The kid spat into the fire and bent to his work. I aint heard no voice, he said. When it stops, said Tobin, you’ll know you’ve heard it all your life. Is that right? Aye.”
I love how this piece raises the question of who we are ultimately addressing through interiority: the self that it constructs; the other that ratifies the boundary between self and world; the consciousness that is both of us and somehow, always, outside and beyond the limitations of the self.
“…pushed us to the point of being unable to think or say anything unless we believe someone is listening” Yes, but isn’t the crux of the matter the bifurcation between “think” and “say?”
“For let it go how it will, he said, God speaks in the least of creatures. The kid thought him to mean birds or things that crawl but the expriest, watching, his head slightly cocked, said: No man is give leave of that voice. The kid spat into the fire and bent to his work. I aint heard no voice, he said. When it stops, said Tobin, you’ll know you’ve heard it all your life. Is that right? Aye.”
-Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian
I love how this piece raises the question of who we are ultimately addressing through interiority: the self that it constructs; the other that ratifies the boundary between self and world; the consciousness that is both of us and somehow, always, outside and beyond the limitations of the self.
“…pushed us to the point of being unable to think or say anything unless we believe someone is listening” Yes, but isn’t the crux of the matter the bifurcation between “think” and “say?”