...I think Logic is coming on to me...

...but logic can deflower the word, all that remains unassailable is the

Because thought can never be God and word is the child of thought and is no Christ. The deflowering roue Logic is beautiful in his lechery because he reminds us that our language is human, that it contains the methods of its own deconstruction, and that flowers and fruits are meant for scattering seeds.

"The question driving me mad is: how can one manage to be simultaneously inside and outside?

...

Yesterday I made Promethea the sincere promise that I would sincerely do my best to write what she wants.
It is a promise.
Which is an even newer, even greater difficulty than all the others.

...

It is how serous translation is that torments me. Translating oneself is already serious - I mean putting life into words - sometimes it is almost putting it to death; sometimes dragging it out, sometimes embalming it, sometimes making it vomit or lie, sometimes bringing it to climax, but one never knows before beginning whether one's luck will be good or bad, whether this is birth or suicide. But translating someone else - that requires extraordinary arrogance or extraordinary humility. Extraordinary arrogance is something I don't have. And extraordinary humility - I don't know who has that."

Helene Cixous, Book of Promethea