How does one desire forgetting? How does one desire not to keep?How does one desire mourning (assuming that to mourn, to work at mourning does not amount to keeping . . .)? (Derrida, GT, 36)Jacques Derrida died Friday night, October 8–9, 2004.

[T]he common character of the mildest, as well as the severest cases, to which the faulty and chance actions contribute, lies in the ability to refer the phenomena to unwelcome, repressed, psychic material, which, though pushed away from consciousness, is nevertheless not robbed of all capacity to express itself. (Freud, PEL, 146)

Into those things from which existing things have their coming into being, their passing away, too, takes place, according to what must be; for they make reparation to one another for their injustice according to the ordinance of time . . . . (Anaximander fragment; Simplicius Phys., 24, 18 [DK 12 B 1]; trans. Robinson, EGP, 34)[T]o remember and to bear witness to something that is constitutively forgotten, not only in each individual mind, but in the very thought of the West. (Lyotard, “HJ,” 141)To bear witness to the differend. (Lyotard, DPD, xiii)[I]n witnessing, one also exterminates. (I, 204)Reality is composed of the différend.

By submitting to the primacy of the question “What?” the phenomenology of memory finds itself at the outset confronting a formidable aporia present in ordinary language: the presence in which the representation of the past seems to consist does indeed appear to be that of an image. We say interchangeably that we represent a past event to ourselves or that we have an image of it, an image that can be either quasi visual or auditory. . . . Memory, reduced to recall, thus operates in the wake of the imagination. . . .As a countercurrent to this tradition of devaluing memory, in the margins of a critique of imagination, there has to be an uncoupling of imagination from memory as far as this operation can be extended. (Ricoeur, MHF, 5–6)

there is something else to which we are witness, and which we might describe as an insurrection of subjugated knowledges. (Foucault, 2L, 81)a whole set of knowledges that have been disqualified as inadequate to their task or insufficiently elaborated: naive knowledges, . . . . (82)What emerges out of this is something one might call a genealogy, or rather a multiplicity of genealogical researches, a painstaking rediscovery of struggles together with the rude memory of their conflicts. (83)Let us give the term genealogy to the union of erudite knowledge and local memories which allows us to establish a historical knowledge of struggles and to make use of this knowledge tactically today. (83)If we were to characterise it in two terms, then “archaeology” would be the appropriate methodology of this analysis of local discursivities, and “genealogy” would be the tactics whereby, on the basis of the descriptions of these local discursivities, the subjected knowledges which were thus released would be brought into play. (85)

Is the memory of touching always disguised by senses that forget where they come from? Creating distancethrough a mastery that constitutes the object as a monument built in place of the subject’s disappearance.The memory of touching? The most insistent and the most difficult to enter into memory. The one that entailsreturning to a commitment whose beginning and end cannot be recovered.Memory of the flesh, where that which has not yet been written is inscribed, laid down? That which has a place,has taken place, but has no language. The felt, which expresses itself for the first time. Declares itself to theother in silence.One must remember this and hope that the other remembers. Lodge it in a memory that serves as its bedand its nest, while waiting for the other to understand. Make a cradle for him inside and out while leaving himfree, and keep oneself in the memory of the strength that revealed itself, that acted. (Irigaray, 215–16)

No memory can follow the traces of the past. It is an immemorial past—and this also is perhaps eternity, whose signifyingness obstinately throws one back to the past. Eternity is the very irreversibility of time, the source and refuge of the past. (Levinas, “Meaning and Sense,” 30)Keeping the senses alert means being attentive in flesh and in spirit. (Irigaray, Ethics of Sexual Difference, 148)