and watch him probe his way out.” “Rather than supposing that people apply their knowledge in practice, we would be more inclined to say that they know by way of their practice—that is, through an ongoing engagement, in perception and action, with the constituents of their environment” (Ingold 159). “Here, ‘to process’ is understood in an intransitive sense. Like life itself, it does not begin here or end there, but is continually going on. It is equivalent to the very movement—the processing—of the whole person, indivisibly body and mind, through the lifeworld” (Ingold 159). “To be sure, the expert is more knowledgeable than the novice. What distinguishes them, however, is not a greater accumulation of mental content— as though with every increment of learning yet more representations were packed inside the head—but a greater sensitivity to cues in the environment and a greater capacity to respond to these cues with judgement and precision. The difference, if you will, is not one of how much you know but of how well you know” (Ingold 161). “Close reading pays attention to elements in the text which, although marginal, are nonetheless emphatic, prominent—elements in the text which ought to be quietly subordinate to the main idea, but which textually call attention to themselves” (Gallop 8). “Close reading is thus a technique to make us learn, to make us see what we don’t already know, rather than transforming the new and the old” (Gallop 11). “By ‘reading’ here, I mean of course close reading, learning to hear what’s really on the page, listening closely to the other, and being willing to catch what the other actually says, and able to hear what we didn’t expect him to say” (Gallop 17). “I suppose this ought to seem quite an un- remarkable epiphany: that knowledge does rather than simply is it is by now very routine to discover” (Sedgwick 124). “[The ‘hermeneutics of suspicion’] may have made it less rather than more possible to unpack the local, contingent relations between any given piece of knowledge and its narrative/epistemological entailments for the seeker, knower, or teller” (Sedgwick 124). “Paranoia is anticipatory. Paranoia is reflexive and mimetic. Paranoia is a strong theory. Paranoia is a theory of negative affects. Paranoia places its faith in exposure” (Sedgwick 130). “But suppose one takes seriously the notion […] that everyday theory qualitatively affects everyday knowledge and experience; and suppose that one doesn’t want to draw much ontological distinction between academic theory and everyday theory; and suppose that one has a lot of concern for the quality of other people’s and one’s own practices of knowing and experiencing.” (Sedgwick 144-45). “The point of issue is not to find categories that ‘place’ the proverbs once and for all. What I want is categories that suggest their active nature” (Burke 594). “We have had the Philosophy of Being; and we have had the Philosophy of Becoming. In typical contemporary specialization, we have been getting the Philosophy of the Bin” (Burke 597). “They would consider works of art, I think, as strategies for selecting enemies and allies, for socializing losses, for warding off evil eye, for purification, propitiation, and desanctification, consolation and vengeance, admonition and exhortation, implicit commands or instructions of one sort or another. Art forms like ‘tragedy’ or ‘comedy’ or ‘satire’ would be treated as equipments for living, that size up situations in various ways and in keeping with correspondingly various attitudes” (Burke 598).