As if I did not begin and end by loving you

Derrida mourning his mother is my favorite Derrida.

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As if I loved only your memory and confession of me but who would I be, me, if I did not begin and end by loving you in my private language deprived of you, that very one, the untranslatable one, in which the jokes leave us floored… like the day on which a premeditation of love had dictated to me for immortality, no, for posterity, no, for the truth that you are, et lux tua veritas, et veritas tu, [And thy law is the truth, and thou are the truth] “don’t forget that I will have loved you” [“n’oublie pas que je t’aurai aimé”]…

-JACQUES DERRIDA, Circumfession, pg. 41

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As if I loved only your memory and confession of me
      But who would I be xxxxxx
If I did not begin and end
by loving you

in my private language deprived of you
that very one
that untranslatable one, in which
the jokes leave us floored, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

a premeditation of love xxxxxx dictated to me
for immortality, no, for posterity, no, for the truth that you are

Don’t forget that I xxxxxxxx (but who would I be)

will have loved you

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