Fundamentally, a ruin is a utilitarian structure which through the ravages of time or through some other circumstance has lost its utility and its function. When a useful object becomes useless, it continues to be present without a true existence, exactly as if it were dead. A torn glove, a bicycle without wheels, do not deserve to be called by their original names. It is difficult, of course, for us to resign ourselves to the fact that objects we have always (...) thought of as useful are no longer useful; we hold on to the illusion of profiting from them as long as possible. We still make use of an abandoned automobile by stripping it of its accessories; we make use of a dilapidated house by salvaging some of its building material. However, the time comes when we must accept the evidence and admit that the object has become a burden. (shrink)

We must begin from the principle that all language is necessarily limited. The art of speaking is a common heritage, even if it is wasted. It has so lost its mystery (more precisely; we are so calm in its possession) that we consider it almost as a gift of nature. Nevertheless, it must be learned; it is, in fact, a product of education, even for those who might believe that they have never received any. Like all acquired disciplines, then, it (...) is the fruit of a long process of restraint. Manuals exist which teach Latin without tears. Learning the first language seems to take place without recourse to handbooks and hickory sticks, but this is because a vast program is available, full time, along with dedicated teachers who do not keep an eye on the clock, and fresh intellects who never think their knowledge is sufficient. Instruction is difficult, in spite of all this, for the task is more challenging than adults imagine it to be. (shrink)

These observations are an extension of those of a friend, the late Mircea Eliade, who more than once dealt with the problem of time. Philosophers have long been interested in this problem, which obviously concerns all of us. The nature of Eliade's preoccupations obliged him, but aside from that, we sense that the subject was close to his heart and that what he called “the terror of history” was a fundamental problem for him. He spoke of it at length in (...) Le Sacré et le profane, in Le Mythe de l’éternel retour, in Images et symboles. His approach was that of a moralist and philosopher, but we know that this distinguished scholar was in reality an encyclopedist. (shrink)

Thanks to the particularly penetrating analysis of André Martinet, we now know that the complementary existence of two levels of different articulation is one of the most remarkable specific characteristics of language. To the first level belong all facts concerning significant units, the meaning and inflection of words, syntactic groupings and the composition of a discourse; the second articulation is that of non-significant elements that we call phonemes. In other words, it is at the second level that we pronounce articulate (...) sounds, while to the first we owe the possibility of formulating groups with meaning. The first articulation could be visualized as the molecular and cellular level in which the simplest elements, having a very limited autonomy, are organized according to affinities having the force of law; the second articulation would thus represent the atomic level, that of elementary particles identified by their role in groups. (shrink)