These powerful opposing forces within us, which bind humanity—language and life—to the servitude of lies, are read in literature, where they imbue it with the hidden face of truth. If the cold expression of clear language disappoints, if literature fascinates us, it is because the desire to laugh and love, whether vigorous or subdued, holds us fast. But in literature, we encounter the same obstacles as in love. Literature has meaning only as happiness, but this pursuit of happiness that compels us to write or read seems to have an unfortunate opposite meaning. If we consider tragedy, it brings us Continue reading
