Sunday, September 14, 2008
De Maistre on time
Time seems to me to be something so inconceivable that I am tempted to believe that it really doesn’t exist, and that what we call ‘time’ is nothing more than a punishment of the mind….It is when men fall silent, when the demon of noise is mute within its temple, in the midst of a sleeping city - it is then that Time raises its voice and makes itself heard within my soul. Silence and darkness become its interpreters, and reveal its mysterious march to me; it is no longer an abstract thing of reason that my thought cannot seize –my senses themselves perceive it. I can see it in the sky, chasing the stars westwards before it. Now it is pushing the rivers towards, and rolling with the mist along the hillsides…I listen: the winds are moaning under the vigorous sweep of its swift wings, and the distant bell shudders at its terrible passage.