Contrary to what phenomenology — which is always phenomenology of perception — has tried to make us believe, contrary to what our desire cannot fail to be tempted into believing, the thing itself always escapes.
“Though I’ve roamed through many places,
None there is that my heart troweth
Fair as that wherein fair groweth
One whose laud here interlaces
Tuneful words, that I’ve essayed.
Let this tune be gently played
Which my voice herward upraises.”
Ezra Pound | “Canzon: To Be Sung Beneath a Window”