Not that by being original I should be keeping
closest to a kind of inspired creation, a kind of grace
guaranteeing the truth of my utterance: what is spontaneous
is not necessarily authentic.
Rather, that first message which was to express
my grief immediately, that pure message
which would denote just what is in myself, is utopian;
the language of others (and what other language could exist?)
returns that message to me no less immediately decorated,
burdened with an infinity of messages I do not want.

Whoever wants to write with exactitude
must therefore proceed to the frontiers of language,
and it is in this that he actually writes for others.

-Roland Barthes