Thus reflection is carried away by itself and in-
stalls itseit m an impregnable subjectivity, as yet untouched by being
and time. But this is very ingenuous, or at least it is an incomplete
form of reflection which loses sight of its own beginning. When I
begirt to reflect my reflection bears upon an unreflective experience;
moreover my reflection cannot be unaware of itself as an event, and
so it appears to itself in the light of a truly creative act, of a changed
structure of consciousness, and yet it has to recognize, as having
priority over its own operations, the world which is given to the
subject because the subject is given to himself. The real has to be de-
scribed, not constructed or formed. Which means that I cannot put
perception into the same category as the syntheses represented by
judgements, acts or predications. My field of perception is constantly
filled with a play of colours, noises and fleeting tactile sensations which
I cannot relate precisely to the context of my clearly perceived world,
yet which I ne\ertheless immediately 'place' in the world, without
ever confusing them with my daydreams. Equally constantly I weave
dreams round things. I imagine people and things whose presence is
not incompatible with the context, yet who are not in fact involved in
it: they are ahead of reality, in the realm of the imaginary. If the
reality of my perception were based solely on the intrinsic coherence
of 'representations', it ought to be for ever hesitant and, being
wrapped up in my conjectures on probabilities, I ought to be cease-
lessly taking apart misleading syntheses, and reinstating in reality
stray phenomena which I had excluded in the first place. But this does
not happen. The real is a closely woven fabric. It does not await our
judgement before incorporating the most surprising phenomena, or
before rejecting the most plausible figments of our imagination.
Perception is not a science of the world, it is not even an act, a deli-
' Logische Untcrsuchungen, Prolegomena zur reinen Logik, p. 93.

whats the point of anything if anything can exist before it

The Idiot, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, Lolita, Solitude and Society, The Cherry Orchard, Fathers and Sons.

because they are warm and cute and cuddle and fuzzy and soft and cute and friendly and they give u hugs and kisses and they are happy and nice and

fuck that

no homo i wanA touch edward Cullen tbh Hes So H0ttttttttttttttt

Originally posted by Burnt Sienna:

my dad

http://i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/facebook/000/557/213/f7f.jpeg

I Want To Meet Rick Ross In Real Life

Originally posted by G_lad:

An obligation-free clitoris

Originally posted by Burnt Sienna:

Originally posted by ุ:

Green/Blue.

kys