As I had failed in my efforts to think without recourse to language, I assumed that this was an exact equivalent of reality; I was encouraged in this misconception by the grown-ups, whom I took to be the sole depositaries of absolute truth: when they defined a thing, they expressed its substance, in the sense in which one expresses the juice from a fruit. So that I could conceive of no gaps into which error might fall between the word and its object; that is why I submitted myself uncritically to the Word, without examining its meaning, even when my circumstances inclined me to doubt its truth. Two of my Sirmione cousins were sucking sticks of candy-sugar: ‘It’s a purgative’, they told me in a bantering tone: their sniggers warned me that they were making fun of me; nevertheless the word they had used incorporated itself into my mind with the sticks of candy-sugar; I no longer liked them because they now seemed to me a dubious compromise between sweet and medicine.
Between the Word and its Object
From de Beauvoir’s Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter
>YES, love her discussions of how she perceived language and signification as a young girl. So fascinating and perceptive.
>De Beauvoir's approach: observing her childhood as a philosophical study, with knowledge only the adult possesses, is compelling. It is an unusual point of view but rewarding.
>"If one doesn't have words, how does one think?" Iris Murdock.
>Do you read and enjoy Murdoch? I'm conflicted by her writing, but perhaps have not read the right book.