We’re growing old, W. says. Our eyes are dulling and our hair is greying. Even my eyes, the one who he took as a protégé! Even my hair, the one he singled out for his youth!
Socrates taught Plato, W. says. Plato taught Aristotle. And Aristotle taught Alexander, who conquered half the world. Hasn’t W. dreamt of a pupil who would leap ahead of him? To be superseded in thought. To become a kind of springboard for a thinker who would leap yet higher, yet farther. Of what else does the true thinker want? To nurture the protégé who would blast new skies open …
Cohen begat W., who in turn begat Lars: isn't that the succession of which W. has dreamt? The unthought of Cohen, which begat W. The unthought of W., which begat Lars … But he's engendered only a monster of thought, W. says. A monster of non-thought, of the sacrifice of succession. I am the last of the family line: isn't that clear? Thought stops with me: isn't that what W. has come to learn?
Lars Iyer's Blog 