Two days before the start of spring in 1951, little more than a month before his death, Ludwig Wittgenstein wrote in his notebook, between the passages later numbered 387 and 388 in the volume On Certainty,
[I believe it might interest a philosopher, one who can think himself, to read my notes. For even if I have hit the mark only rarely, he would recognize what target I had been ceaselessly aiming at.]
What would it mean if a poet said such a thing?
Posted by jane at October 31, 2005 05:28 PM | TrackBack