Perplexity is the dark reverse face of inspiration.


Perplexity is the philosopher’s element. The element is intelligibility void of concept — pure unconceived, answerless, questionless, borderless mind-aether.

Perplexity is the conceptual vacuum that sucks answers and the questions to which they belong out of our lungs.

Though perplexity is the philosopher’s element, even philosophers hate perplexity. What philosophers love is coming out of perplexity. Emerging from perplexity after prolonged submersion in its disorientation, groping blindly to an exit on the far side, a soul emerges in a new world, in a new life, as a new everything. But entering perplexity, even approaching it, a soul senses its finitude against intolerable infinitude.

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