"I exist"; in fact, as found immersion "I think" in all the strata in which it is only "as would" is present and which it animates somehow contradictory the dream-Polubarinova, to the extent it is no longer possible out the statement "I exist": can I say that I am the language I speak and in which my thought smoothly controls the system and its inherent capabilities, but which there is, however, only in hard layers, fully to actualize that idea is not in the state? Can I say I am the very work which I carry out their own hands, but which eludes me -- not only after I was finished, but before I started it? Can I say I am the life I feel inside themselves, but which envelops me time -- like the an irresistible the time in which it takes place, for a moment, raising his me the crest of its waves, and those formidable time I predicted my own death? I could say at the same time that I am and that I am not all this; the cogito does not leads to the affirmation of being, but it opens up the possibility a number of questions about Genesis. What should I be-the I which thinks and which is my point, -- what should I be to become something that I do not think that my thoughts became what I am not myself? What is it -- that a being, which like sparkles and twinkles in the openness of the cogito, but it is not given in all greatness by himself and in himself? What is the ratio and complex springline of being and thinking? What is it -- chelovechekskogo Genesis-and how it may happen, that being that that is so just be defined by saying "it is thought" (to be maybe it contains), is in such deep and tireless attitude to the unthinkable? So set some form of reflection, very far from cartesiana, and from Kant's analysis, and in which for the first time raises the question of man's being in that dimension where thought turns to the unthinkable and marschlande with him.
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"I exist"; in fact, as found
immersion "I think" in all the strata in which it is only "as
would" is present and which it animates somehow contradictory
the dream-Polubarinova, to the extent it is no longer possible
out the statement "I exist": can I say that
I am the language I speak and in which my thought smoothly
controls the system and its inherent capabilities, but which
there is, however, only in hard layers, fully
to actualize that idea is not in the state? Can I say
I am the very work which I carry out their
own hands, but which eludes me -- not only
after I was finished, but before I started it?
Can I say I am the life I feel inside
themselves, but which envelops me time -- like the an irresistible
the time in which it takes place, for a moment, raising his me
the crest of its waves, and those formidable time
I predicted my own death? I could say
at the same time that I am and that I am not all this; the cogito does not
leads to the affirmation of being, but it opens up the possibility
a number of questions about Genesis. What should I be-the I
which thinks and which is my point, -- what should I be
to become something that I do not think that my thoughts became what
I am not myself? What is it -- that a being, which like
sparkles and twinkles in the openness of the cogito, but it is not given in all
greatness by himself and in himself? What is the ratio and complex
springline of being and thinking? What is it -- chelovechekskogo
Genesis-and how it may happen, that being that that is so
just be defined by saying "it is thought" (to be
maybe it contains), is in such
deep and tireless attitude to the unthinkable? So
set some form of reflection, very far from
cartesiana, and from Kant's analysis, and in which for the first time
raises the question of man's being in that dimension where thought
turns to the unthinkable and marschlande with him.
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