Deleuze y El Estoicismo

Edinburgh University Press
Chapter Title: On the Surface: The Deleuze-Stoicism Encounter

Chapter Author(s): Ryan J. Johnson
Book Title: Contemporary Encounters with Ancient Metaphysics

Book Editor(s): Abraham Jacob Greenstine, Ryan J. Johnson
Published by: Edinburgh University Press. (2017)
Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.3366/j.ctt1g050w8.20
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide
range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and
facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at
https://about.jstor.org/terms
This book is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0

International License (CC BY-NC 4.0). To view a copy of this license, visit
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/. Funding is provided by Knowledge
Unlatched Select 2016: Frontlist.
Edinburgh University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend
access to Contemporary Encounters with Ancient Metaphysics
This content downloaded from 186.84.22.172 on Wed, 08 Apr 2020 21:02:45 UTC
All use subject to https://about.jstor.org/terms
chapter 15
On the Surface:
The Deleuze-Stoicism
Encounter
Ryan J. Johnson
“the event of death”
We begin with two events – two deaths, in fact. The first is the death of the
Roman Stoic Seneca.1 After a complicated history as an imperial adviser
to Nero, Seneca was ordered to commit suicide by that infamous Roman
emperor. Affirming this fate, Seneca cut an artery on his arm in an attempt to
bleed to death. Since he was so old and frail, however, his arteries were weak
and barely able to pump blood; death would not be so easy for Seneca. He
thus cut arteries on his leg and behind his knees, yet even this did not kill him.
Mirroring the famous Socratic manner of death, Seneca then asked for hem-
lock. Painfully, the hemlock also did not bring the mortal relief. As a last resort,
“having been carried into the bath, [. . .] he was asphyxiated by the steam,
[and] cremated without any of the solemnity of a funeral.”2 The warm waters
finally brought about the event of Seneca’s death. The second death is the
suicide of Gilles Deleuze. On Saturday, 4 November 1995, after years of pain
and suffering, Deleuze leapt from the window of his third-floor apartment, on
Avenue Niel in Paris’s seventeenth arrondissement. Similar to what he wrote
of Beckett, Deleuze had been exhausted by the effects of a lifelong respiratory
illness, a tracheotomy, and attacks of suffocation that left him “chained like a
dog” to an oxygen machine.3 In those last few months, he could barely speak
or even hold a pen. Defenestration was the evental form of his death.4 For
Seneca and Deleuze, suicide is an event, and as such it is intimately two-sided,
simultaneously the most personal and the most impersonal act. Deleuze cites
Blanchot in describing “suicide as the wish to bring about the conscience of
the two faces of death.”5 The double-sided form of suicide allows us to bring
together these two faces of death, two double-sided events, a dual death.
the deleuze-stoicism encounter 271
This twofold character, along with the ever-so-thin threshold separating

and connecting these two sides, creates a continuous crack in the event. This
crack is expressed in the paradoxical Stoic theory of incorporeals and further
emphasized in Deleuze’s reading of Stoic ontology. In this essay, we explore
this strand of the Deleuze-Stoic encounter.
Deleuze explains that the “privileged place assigned to the Stoics is due
to their having been the initiators of a new image of the philosopher which
broke away from the pre-Socratics, Socratic philosophy, and Platonism.”6
In third-century Rome, a very intriguing double-headed statue expressed
these opposed lineages. On one side of the statue is the face of Socrates, on
the opposite side is Seneca.7 Although they share one brain, they engage the
world in opposite directions. Each man drank the hemlock, but only one
found it deadly. Both are attached along a crack “without thickness,” joining
and dividing these two faces of philosophy at the backs of their respective
heads. Deleuze’s encounter with Stoicism begins at this dimensionless border
separating Socrates and Seneca. This statue, especially its double-sided struc-
ture, expresses the way in which Stoicism initiates a new manner of doing phi-
losophy. This new philosophical manner sparks an alternative philosophical
lineage, “a minor tradition,” which eventually provokes many of the essential
features of Deleuze’s own thought.
stoic ontology and something
Keeping with the image of the double-headed statue, let us contrast Platonic
and Stoic ontologies. Contra Plato, Seneca writes: “Some Stoics think that the
primary genus is ‘something’ [quid].”8 The Stoics do not contrast nothing and
“being” (οὐσία); they contrast nothing and something. Like the Greek Stoics
before him, “I [Seneca] divide ‘what is’ into three species: things are corporeal
or incorporeal; there is no third possibility.”9 While it might seem strange that
Seneca says there are three species but only lists two, the third species plays
more of a polemical role, designating things that do not exist, fictional entities
such as Plato’s transcendent forms.10 In fairness, it is not even a third category,
but more of a catch-all trash bin for fantastical creatures, or any “bit of Plato’s
personal baggage.”11
The real distinction in “something” is modal. Corporeals and incorporeals
are both species of something, they are both real, but only corporeals exist.
Stoicism is very clear on this point: to be is to be a body. Existence and corpo-
reality are coextensive. Contrary to Platonism, there is no immaterial existence
in Stoicism. From beginning to end, Stoicism is a thoroughgoing materialism.
The Stoics redeploy the suggestion of Plato’s Sophist to their own materialist
ends. Plato ventriloquizes, “a thing really is if it has any capacity at all [. . .]
to do something to something else or to have even the smallest thing done to
it.”12 Deleuze (and Spinoza) would agree: to be means to have the capacity
act or be acted upon. For the Stoics, only bodies can act and be acted upon.
272 ryan j. johnson
To exist thus means to be able to engage in causal relations, to bring about

effects in and to suffer effects from other bodies. Émile Bréhier, one of the
two major influences on Deleuze’s encounter with Stoicism, notes that this
thesis, another divergence from Platonism, “renders ideal causality completely
impossible.”13
The Stoics postulate another ontological category. While everything is
something (every existing thing is a something), something includes that which
is beyond body but is not transcendently ideal: incorporeals. Incorporeals are
not transcendent forms; immanence characterizes them as much as it charac-
terizes bodies. The difference is that, while incorporeals do not exist, they do
subsist (ὑφίστασθαι).14 Subsistence is neither being nor nothing, but somewhere
between both. John Sellars calls them “non-existent realities.”15 To differenti-
ate it from Plato’s forms, Deleuze sometimes calls this kind of immanent real-
ity “insistence.”16
Zeno of Citium thought that “it was quite impossible for anything to be
acted on by something entirely without body,” while Cicero reports, “neither
what acts nor what it acts on could be incorporeal.”17 Neither active nor pas-
sive, Deleuze calls incorporeals “impassive.”18 While existent bodies have a
causal character, incorporeals are not inscribed within the order of causation
(which is why Delueze describes them as effects). Corporeals and incorpore-
als are both real, insofar as they are both kinds of something, but they are
modally different. “The Stoics,” Deleuze writes, “are in the process of tracing
out and forming a frontier where there had not been one before.”19 Through
the construction of this strange ontological frontier, the Stoics “transcend
the experiential dimensions of the visible without falling into [transcendent]
Ideas.”20 This frontier or surface is the means by which Stoic ontology initiates
a new manner of philosophizing.
With this ontological surface, Stoic ontology flattens out the heights of
Plato’s transcendent metaphysics. No longer is there an ascending movement
from depths to height, from particulars to universals, from the darkness of
the cave to the bright light of the sun. Instead, the Stoics construct the con-
cept of a flat surface, as paradoxical as it is, that allows continuous passage
from corporeals to incorporeals and back again. Distributing the verticality
of Platonism onto a single horizontal plane inaugurates a new mode of phi-
losophy, and Deleuze considers this to be an entirely original Stoic achieve-
ment, one that further entails an entire ethics.21 While Deleuze suggests that
Plato shows the direction for an overturning of Platonism, “the Stoics,” he
clearly states, “are the first to reverse Platonism.”22 Recall the two-faced
statue: Socrates faces in one direction, perhaps staring up into the height
of the transcendent domain, but Seneca looks out in the opposite direction,
following the flat surface of something as it stretches out into the distance,
perhaps even folding back on itself in the form of a Möbius strip, eternally
returning.23 To give us a concrete image to hold in mind as we progress, we
can think of the Stoic surface as the paradoxical middle of the two faces of
the Möbius strip.24
the “four” incorporeals
On the traditional reading, the Stoics postulate four types of incorporeals:

“[I] sayable [λεκτόν], [II] void, [III] place [τόπον], and [IV] time.”25 Part of our
argument, though, will be to show how, in the Deleuze-Stoicism encounter,
there are not four but three incorporeals: I. Space, II. Λεκτά, III. Time. We
begin with void and place.
Space = [I] Void + [II] Place

Sextus clearly explains void and place: “The Stoics say that void is what can
be occupied by an existent but is not occupied [. . .] place is what is occupied
by an existent [body] and made equal to what occupies it.”26 In the extant
fragments, the Stoics do not seem concerned that place and void are really
only two dimensions of the same concept: space. Place is occupied space; void
is empty space. Where bodies are, space subsists; where bodies are not, void
subsists. Since place is defined in relation to bodies, it is finite; place subsists as
equal in size to the body that occupies it. Void, however, subsists completely
independently of bodies, functioning as the empty space outside of all bodies,
beyond the totality of “what is,” τὸ ὄν, infinitely extending out from the cor-
poreal world in all directions. While place is finite and limited, void is infinite
and unlimited.
In order to ensure change in time and space, void and place are neces-
sary. Since they cannot be bodies (for two bodies cannot occupy the same
place), void and place are rendered incorporeal, capable neither of acting nor
being acted upon. The subsistence of void and place is characterized as “giving
way,” relenting, unable to offer any kind of resistance. Void yields to bodies
and becomes place, and place becomes void when emptied of bodies.
While Deleuze does not write much about void and place, focusing instead
on time and λεκτά, we should not pass over this pair of incorporeals too
quickly. As we claimed above and will argue below, void and place are two
dimensions of the same concept: space. That is, void and place are not two
separate types of incorporeals, but are instead two dimensions of one kind of
incorporeal. Space is thus the generic name for this first Stoic incorporeal; it
is the ever-so-thin cleft separating and connecting void and place. As we will
find, this fissure runs throughout the Deleuze-Stoicism encounter.
Λεκτά
A common English translation of λεκτόν is “sayable,” and Émile Bréhier trans-
lates it with the French word exprimable (“expressible”). Λεκτόν is the first
term in the Stoic philosophy of language. As this is a materialist account,
things begin with bodies, in this case the mouth’s production of sounds, which
are themselves physical things. Deleuze cites one of Chrysippus’ paradoxes:
“If you say something, it passes through your lips: now you say wagon, conse-
quently a wagon passes through your lips.”27
274 ryan j. johnson
In order to work through this paradox and discover the Stoic philosophy
of language, consider this sentence: “Deleuze has died.” The sentence is attrib-
uted to a certain state of affairs in the world, although the death subsists only
in the writing. In the world, we find only a collection of bodies – an open win-
dow, a warm corpse, reddening pavement, confused onlookers, etc. Strangely,
there is no death among these bodies. Death does not exist in the world. In
the world, there are only bodies intermixing with other bodies, with nouns
and adjectives to denote them. Death only subsists in words, such that death
is an event expressed by a verb, that is “to die.” The sense of the sentence
subsists at the thin threshold between the word and the world. Deleuze writes,
“physical bodies and sonorous words are separated and articulated at once by
an incorporeal frontier. This frontier is sense, representing, on one side, the
pure ‘expressed’ of words, and on the other, the logical attribute of bodies.”28
Bodies are the corporeal finite things, and sense is the infinite expanse playing
along the surface of states of affairs.
Now consider the sense expressed in Seneca’s “death.” In Seneca’s last
hours, there was a cutting into flesh by a knife. Bréhier mentions cutting in a
passage that Deleuze later cites at length:
So when the scalpel cuts the flesh, the first body produces on the
second not a new property but a new attribute, that of being cut. The
attribute, strictly speaking, does not designate any real quality . . ., it
is always, to the contrary, expressed by a verb, that is to say it is not
a being, but a way of being . . . This way of being finds itself in some
way at the limit, at the surface of being, and it is not able to change
its nature: it is, in fact, neither active nor passive, because passivity
presupposed a corporeal nature which undergoes an action. It is
purely and simply a result, or an effect which is not classified among
beings.29
A cut, like a death, is an incorporeal event. When the knife cuts the skin, we
do not say that the knife gave the skin a new quality. Instead, we say that the
state of affairs that includes the knife and the skin is not the same as it was.
Before, the knife was above the skin; after, the knife is in the divided space of
the skin that has acquired the attribute of being a wound. Bréhier explains,
“there are no new realities, properties, but only [new] attributes.”30 The skin
has the attribute of “having been cut,” and the knife has the attribute of “hav-
ing cut.” Nouns denote the various organizations of the states of affairs. The
cut, however, expressed by the infinitive verb (“to cut,” couper) never exists
among the corporeal state of affairs, for it is an incorporeal event. It never
happens in the world of bodies, but is always what has already happened or is
yet to happen. It is neither the active body (knife) nor the passive body (skin),
but instead arises as their shared effect. While “wound” and “scar” are quali-
ties of bodies, both nouns, “to cut” is not corporeal, but is rather a verb that
contributes an attribute to a body. What it attributes to bodies is an infinitely
divisible event that subsists on a frail frontier that leads off in two directions,
into the inaccessible past and the unreachable future.
Seneca thus never cuts his arm or leg. It is rather that his skin has already
been, or was yet to be, cut. The cut never happens, but subsists as a verb that
can be attributed to bodies. Even after several arteries had been severed, he
still had to wait for the next event – death. Death, too, never arrives. Seneca
never dies, but always “is about to die” or “has died.” Death is an impersonal
instant that is never present but remains a future that never arrives or a past
that has always already passed. “The event is that no one ever dies, but has
always just died or is always going to die.”31 For Blanchot, a significant influ-
ence on Deleuze’s thinking of death, death is impersonal, incorporeal, and
infinitive, contained in the verb “to die” (mourir).32 “Death,” Deleuze writes,
“has an extreme and definite relation to me and my body and is grounded
in me, but also has no relation to me at all.”33 Death is immanent but never
present in a state of affairs, just as verbs are immanent but never existent
in the nouns through which verbs conjugate. Although neither Seneca nor
Deleuze ever died, they are now dead. There is no subject in death. Like the
infinite verb, death is impersonal and pre-subjective. Deleuze refers to this
as the splendor of the fourth person expressed in phrases such as “it rains”
(il pleut) or “it snows” (il neige): “The they [on] of the pure event wherein it
dies [il meurt] does in the same way that it rains [il pleut].”34
Deleuze pushes the analysis further, prioritizing death to a special evental
status. Rather than death being like any other event, “every event,” Deleuze
writes, “is like death.”35 “To die” is the singular form of the frontier between
two domains – life and death – that never relate to each other. Life and death
cannot touch.
Let us push Deleuze even further, and consider the eventual status of Seneca
and Deleuze’s form of death: suicide. Not only is every event like death, but
every death and every event is like suicide. While Seneca cuts his arms and legs,
he is both active and passive. Suicide brings together activity and passivity in
a single body, which is what makes it so personal. Yet the death of suicide,
like any death, never happens, which makes suicide so impersonal. Suicide,
Deleuze writes, is “impersonal death by means of the most personal act.”36 As
such, suicide comes closest to bringing death (“to die,” mourir) to the pres-
ent, to now (maintenant), although this frontier is never crossed. Bodies and
events, like nouns and verbs, are separated by that same surface without thick-
ness that slips through all of Stoic ontology. The second name of this surface is
λεκτόν, the second incorporeal.
Deleuze’s account of sense emerges out of his encounter with the Stoic
concept of λεκτόν. As with λεκτά, Deleuze sees sense as the “expressed of the
proposition.”37 For him, sense is neither body nor nothing. It is something.
Similar to what Blanchot says about suicide, it is both personal and impersonal;
it is what we mean when we speak, but it is also more than that. Since sense
exceeds any one person’s concept, it is not reducible to a conceptual, sensible,
or rational representation, all of which the Stoics consider corporeal. The sense
276 ryan j. johnson
of language subsisted prior to each of us, and it will subsist after death. This is
why Deleuze claims that the genetic power of sense “is an impassive and incor-
poreal entity, without physical or mental existence, neither acting nor being
acted upon.”38
Sextus says it well:
The Stoics said that three things are linked together, the thing signified
and the thing signifying and the thing existing; and of these the thing
signifying is the utterance ([“Deleuze”]39 for instance); and the thing
signified is the actual thing indicated thereby and which we apprehend
as subsisting in dependence on our intellect, whereas foreigners
although hearing the utterance do not understand it; and the thing
existing is the external object, such as [Deleuze] himself. And of these,
two are bodies – that is, the utterance and the existing thing – and one
is incorporeal, namely the thing signified and sayable [λεκτόν], and this
too is true or false.40
The λεκτά form a fragile frontier subsisting between pairs of existing bodies; it
is what is expressed in, but is not reducible to, an articulated proposition. In
between two existing bodies, the signifier and the signified, are the subsistent,
incorporeal λεκτά.41 The key is that λεκτά do not subsist outside of the propo-
sition and its referent. Instead, they inhere or subsist in words. Λεκτά thus
have two dimensions, according to the two major kinds of words. Similar to
the way in which void and place are two dimensions of space, the verbal and
the nominal are two dimensions of λεκτά – verbs express subsistent events and
nouns denote existent bodies. As void is unlimited space and place is limited
space, verbs are infinitive and unlimited λεκτά and nouns are finite and limited
λεκτά. So far, we have seen two primary kinds of incorporeals, and there is one
more to cover.
Time
Time is the final incorporeal of Stoic theory. In order to appreciate the full
breadth of this ancient-contemporary encounter, we start with Zeno of Citium,
the one who founded this ancient philosophical school on that painted porch
(ἡ ποικίλη στοά), and map the production of this notion of time through the
complicated Stoic account and up to Deleuze himself.
Zeno’s definition of time seems to echo Aristotle’s definition. In the Physics,
Aristotle says time is the “number of motion [ἀριθμὸς κινήσεως] with reference
to before and after.”42 Similarly, “Zeno said time is the dimension [διάστημα]
of all motion without qualification [ἁπλῶς].”43 Still, while they both define
time in relation to motion, there is an important difference: Zeno does not
retain the element of calculation or numbering in his definition. Aristotle’s
account depends more on a counting of what came before and what came
after, by how much or how little. Zeno, by contrast, puts time in relation to
motion as such, without calculation and without number. Time, for Zeno,
is the dimension of motion that is irreducible to quantitative measurement.
Unquantified or unqualified movement distributes time not in terms of discrete
numbers, but in terms of speed and slowness.44 Already in Zeno, there is a shift
in the ancient thinking of time from quantitative to qualitative measurement,
or what Deleuze might call a move from an extensive to an intensive measure
of time.
After Zeno, “Chrysippus said time [χρόνον] is [. . .] the dimension [διάστημα]
of motion [κινήσεως] accompanying the world’s [τοῦ κόσμου] motion.”45 With
this definition, Chrysippus develops Zeno’s definition in two important ways.
First, notice the difference between saying that time is “of” motion, and that
it is the dimension “accompanying” motion. When Zeno says that time is the
dimension of motion, he implies that movement has a discrete extension, that
is it has a determinate beginning and an end, such as five meters, or two kilo-
meters. Although Zeno starts to make the measure of time more intensive, at
least compared to Aristotle, for him time is still discontinuous. Chrysippus and
all later Stoics, however, complete the transition to the intensive and render
time continuous. This is accomplished by means of the second way in which
Chrysippus extends Zeno’s definition: he connects time to the world’s motion,
the movement of the κόσμος. The κόσμος, for the Stoics, is infinite in that
it endlessly turns in a cycle. Connecting time to the infinite and continuous
motion of the cosmic cycles ensures that time is also infinite and continuous.
Thus with Chrysippus, time becomes truly continuous.
So far, we have seen that Stoicism, after Zeno, sees time as materially contin-
uous, that is there are no gaps in time. Time is a smooth and unending surface.
Stoics also posit time as structurally continuous, that is as infinitely divisible.
Against the Epicureans, the Stoics grant no end to the process of cutting time,
space, matter, or motion into smaller and smaller parts. “Chrysippus said that
bodies are divided to infinity, and likewise things comparable to bodies, such as
surface, line, place, void and time.”46 While the materially continuous nature of
time entails the infinite stretching of time into the past and future, the structur-
ally continuous nature of time entails some seemingly paradoxical accounts of
the present.
If time is infinitely divisible, then the present can be divided endlessly:
[Chrysippus] says most clearly that no time [χρόνος] is wholly present

[ὅλως ἐνίσταται]. For since continuous things are infinitely divisible
[τομὴ], on the basis of this division every time too is infinitely divisible.
Consequently no time is present exactly, but it is broadly [κατὰ πλάτος]
said to be so.47
Speaking precisely, time is never present. This is clear for the future and the
past. The future and the past cannot, by definition, be present. If they were,
they would be the present, and not the future or past. The rub is that this
infinite divisibility also applies to the present. Although the present, broadly
278 ryan j. johnson
speaking, seems constituted by part of the past and part of the future, these
parts can be divided endlessly. Continuous division implies that the present
never is. Hence the paradoxical conclusion: the present is never present, now
is never now. This is where Deleuze enters the scene: the present “is subdi-
vided ad infinitum into something that has just happened and something that
is going to happen, always flying in both directions at once.”48 Like death,
the present never exists, but is instead the nonexistent limit or frontier that
endlessly decomposes into the past and the future; it “is” simply the border at
which the past and the future meet and separate. We now have some provoca-
tive conclusions: since present, past, and future do not exist, time does not
exist. Deleuze calls this understanding of time Aion, from αἰών.
Interestingly, the Stoics add a further complication to the paradoxes of
time. As soon as they claim that the present is not real, and so never exists,
they also say the very opposite of that: “only the present exists [ὑπάρχειν].”49
The present is real, it seems, but not the past or the future. “The past and
the future,” they continue, “subsist [ὑφεστάναι], but exist in no way.”50 The
present thus has a limited “extension or duration” into which past and future
are gathered together or absorbed.51 In the extended present, “one part of the
present time is future and the other past.”52 The extension of the present can
both expand and contract. It can expand out to the present day, the present
year, even expanding out until it encompasses the time of all bodies, or it can
contract down so that it encompasses the time of a single body, however large
or small it is. However vast or slim, the present has a finite extension. Deleuze
calls this reading of time Chronos, from χρόνος.
Chronos and Aion

While most ancient scholars attempt to explain away the apparent conflict in
the Stoic theory of time by stressing one of the two sides of the paradox, at
the end of the day they often conclude that the theory is irresolvably fraught.
Deleuze, however, does not try to explain away the paradox, but instead sees
great power therein. Rather than try to resolve the dynamic tension of the
Stoic theory of time, Deleuze greatly appreciates how the Stoic way of formu-
lating problems generates challenging and dynamic concepts: “The genius of
a philosophy must first be measured by the new distribution which it imposes
on beings and concepts,” and this is something that Stoicism accomplishes
with their ontology of incorporeals.53 In Deleuze’s eyes, Stoicism is not hope-
lessly doomed, but instead produces provocative ways of thinking about time,
beyond the shadows cast by Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle.
The two parts of the paradox of the Stoic theory of time lead Deleuze to
conclude:
Time must be grasped twice, in two complementary [complémentaires]

though mutually exclusive fashions. First, it must be grasped entirely
as the living present in bodies that act and are acted upon. Second,
it must be grasped entirely as an entity infinitely divisible into past
and future [. . .] Only the present exists in time and gathers together
or absorbs the past and future. But only the past and future inhere in
time and divide each present infinitely. These are not three successive
dimensions, but two simultaneous [simultanées] readings of time.54
In Deleuze’s eyes, the cleavage that acts as the dividing surface between these
two seemingly incommensurable accounts of time seems to require two differ-
ent readings of time. As noted above, Deleuze adapts two classical names for
these two readings: Aion and Chronos.
At this point we must be precise in our understanding of the role of time in
the Deleuze-Stoicism encounter. We must ask: is Deleuze right in claiming that
there are really two different readings of time in Stoicism, Aion and Chronos?
Or does it unjustifiably force the Stoics to say something they themselves would
not say? Of course we could flippantly refer to Deleuze’s famous remark about
the buggery of the history of philosophy, it is necessary to remember the most
important feature of this reflection on his encounters: “I saw myself as taking
an author from behind and giving him a child that would be his own offspring,
yet monstrous. It was really important for me for it to be his own child, because
the author had to actually say all I had him saying.”55 Let us test whether
Deleuze does in fact meet his personal standard of creatively and sensitively
engaging with the Stoic theory of time.
Reading the extant passages concerning time attributed to Zeno, Chrysip-
pus, and the other early Stoics, we do not find a single use of the word “αἰών”
that has the sense of Deleuze’s Aion. The only place in which this term appears,
in a way, is in Marcus Aurelius’ Mediations, which was written centuries after
the deaths of Zeno and Chrysippus. This is where Victor Goldschmidt, the
other major influence on Deleuze’s Stoic encounter, and the thinker with the
greatest impact on Deleuze’s engagement with the Stoic theory of time, turns in
order to claim that the Stoics had two distinct accounts of time. Goldschmidt
argues that the reason why we do not see two distinct accounts of time in the
early Stoics is because Chrysippus had a “negligence with his terminology,
[which] we can say was repaired by Marcus Aurelius.”56 Thus Goldschmidt
points to a few passages in the Mediations that demonstrate how both αἰών
and ἄπειρος (the former standardly translated as “eternity” or “age,” the latter
as “infinite” or “endless”), because they both can refer to eternity and the infi-
nite past and future, are linked.57 At the same time, John Sellars notes, Gold-
schmidt overlooks many passages where Marcus Aurelius links ἄπειρος with
χρόνος, not αἰών.58 If Goldschmidt’s claim – there are two distinct accounts
of time in Stoicism – is based merely on a terminological distinction, then his
argument falters due to a lack of textual support.59
Yet Deleuze pushes beyond Goldschmidt’s influence. Consider what
Deleuze says: “The greatness of Stoic thought is to show at once the neces-
sity [nécessité] of these two readings and their reciprocal exclusion.”60 While
Deleuze follows Goldschmidt in affirming that the Stoics had two readings of
time, he further contends that both are equally necessary, complementary, and
280 ryan j. johnson
simultaneous.61 It is not simply that there are two understandings of time, but
also that these two understandings converge in their very divergence.
We can refer to a standard Deleuzian distinction, one that has bubbled
below the surface of our entire investigation, in order to make sense of the
way in which these two theories of time both converge and diverge. Consider
Sellars’ clever observation that there is another way to translate the phrase
“κατὰ πλάτος” in the already-mentioned Stobaeus passage.62 Long and Sedley
translate this as “broadly.” There is, however, another possible translation,
one which Goldschmidt himself uses: l’éntendue, extension.63 When we refer
to the present as extended through and delimited by the living present of exist-
ing bodies, we see time according to extensive measurements: time as χρόνος,
Chronos. Given an ongoing state of affairs, we can extensively circumscribe
the present as having a finite duration. By contrast, when we consider the pres-
ent not as extended but as eternally dislocated, as a continuously displaced
and missing center, we consider time according to intensive measurements:
time as αἰών, Aion.
What is it to measure time extensively or intensively? An extensive mea-
surement of time is something like one minute, two days, three years, and so
on. If we divide, for example, one hour in half, we get two half hours. The
difference is a mere metric difference, that is there is no real change in kind
between one hour, a half-hour, a quarter of an hour, an eighth of an hour,
etc. Different extensive measurements are equal and homogenous, that is we
can divide into them without changing the nature of what is being divided.64
An intensive measurement, by contrast, is more like pressure, temperature,
or pitch. Such intensities cannot be divided or altered without a change in
nature. If we lower the temperature of a gallon of water from 50 to 25 degrees
Fahrenheit, we find what was liquid now is ice; if we raise the pitch of a tone
by a whole step, we have a new note. Similarly, an intensively considered time
is not composed of equal and homogenous parts, but of heterogeneous divi-
sions, each of which is infinitely divisible. That is, intensive time is composed
of an infinite future and infinite past, separated and connected by a limit, or
what Deleuze often calls a singularity. The present does not exist, but instead
subsists as “the instant without thickness and without extension,” a “pure
perverse ‘moment,’” an ever-so-thin crack in time.65
Chronos is thus the dimension of Stoic time that considers time extensively,
while Aion is the dimension that considers time intensively. Chronos is time
considered in terms of finite, limited quantities, while Aion is time considered
in terms of infinite and unlimited intensities. Part of Deleuze’s insight is to
demonstrate the simultaneous mutual exclusion and co-necessitation of both
Chronos and Aion. Put differently, Deleuze is careful not to sacrifice extensity
for intensity, Chronos for Aion, but to demonstrate their immanent relation.
The exact nature of this relation is one of Deleuze’s greatest contributions to
the history of philosophy: the intensive produces the extensive. The reason it
is so difficult to see this is because the extensive covers up or hides the inten-
sive grounds that produced it. In our case, Chronos hides Aion. It is through
Deleuze’s various encounters with figures from the history of philosophy, espe-
cially the Stoics, that this intensive-extensive distinction emerges. In the end,
Deleuze’s encounter with the Stoics forces him to create concepts that show
how the intensive and the extensive are two dimensions of the same theory of
time. Chronos (extensive time) and Aion (intensive time) are two distinct read-
ings of time, but the key is to see how they are necessary, complementary, and
simultaneous understandings of a single incorporeal: time.
the three cracked incorporeals
We have now seen how Deleuze engages with some of the most provocative
elements of Stoic ontology. Along the way, we have developed a rather unorth-
odox account of Stoicism, one that does not fully appear in Deleuze’s texts
but that can be distilled from the contours of his encounter with this ancient
Hellenistic school. This less-than-explicit account of the Deleuze-Stoicism
encounter is reducible to two claims: there are only three, not four, incorpore-
als, and each incorporeal has an intensive and extensive dimension.
The reason why commentators usually assert that the Stoics postulated
four kinds of incorporeals is reasonably based on the extant ancient texts. Still,
we must never forget that none of these are recognized as originating directly
from Zeno, Chrysippus, or any of the early Stoics. Our access to the early Stoic
ideas thus must pass through various critical and doxographical filters, such
as Stobaeus, Sextus Empiricus, Diogenes Laertius, and so on. Since we must
rely on the accounts of the critics of the Stoics, we should always recall that
these authors often write from partisan, polemical, or even uncharitable per-
spectives. It is thus likely that there are some, probably significant, differences
between what the Stoics themselves thought and what their critics said about
them. Remembering this provides sufficient space for the Deleuzian encounter.
It is in this little space that our unorthodox claim appears: there are three
incorporeals in Stoicism, and each are split in two. While the extant texts on
Stoicism, written by their critics, explicitly give four, not three, incorporeals,
this reading of the Deleuze-Stoicism encounter has three distinct advantages.
(1) It allays the confusion as to why place and void are considered separate
types of incorporeals, when they seem to be rather two ways of understanding
space. (2) It helps clarify the clever account of the Stoics’ materialist theory
of language. (3) It addresses some of the concerns arising from the seemingly
paradoxical accounts of time in Stoicism.
As we said, void and place are not simply two distinct concepts, two sepa-
rate kinds of incorporeals, but instead are two distinct dimensions of a single
concept: space. The difference is that place is space considered in terms of the
finitude and limits of the bodies that occupy it, and void is space considered
independently of bodies, and so as infinite and unlimited. In more Deleuzian
language, place is extensive space and void is intensive space. Space is thus
one kind of incorporeal, composed of two dimensions – void and place. Space
282 ryan j. johnson
functions as that border without thickness separating void and place. We can
twist one of Goldschmidt’s diagrams:66
Λεκτά are the second kind of incorporeal. While we have not gone into much
detail about the λεκτά in our discussion, much of Logic of Sense investigates
the ways in which sense relates to linguistic propositions. For our purposes,
it is enough to note that there are two dimensions of the λεκτόν: the nomi-
nal and verbal.67 Verbs, especially infinitive and transfinite verbs, are infinite
and unlimited λεκτά, and nouns are finite and limited λεκτά. In between is
that same ever-so-thin frontier that enters “into the propositions themselves,
between nouns and verbs, or, rather, between denotations and expressions.”68
In other words, verbs are intensively considered λεκτά and nouns are exten-
sively considered λεκτά. Although Goldschmidt does not diagram λεκτόν, we
can further transplant his diagram thus:
Time is the third and final type of incorporeal. In the Deleuze-Stoicism encoun-
ter, there are two readings of time: Chronos and Aion. Chronos is finite and
limited time, wherein only the present exists at a certain duration, while the past
and future subsist. Aion, by contrast, is infinite and unlimited time, wherein the
none of the present, past, or future exist, but all instead subsist. Put differently,
Chronos is corporeal time and Aion is incorporeal time. In Deleuze’s terms,
Chronos is extensive time and Aion is intensive time. What separates them?
That paradoxical surface without thickness that operates throughout Stoic
ontology. We can again twist, with yet more changes, Goldschmidt’s diagram:69
Let us add one more twist to these diagrams. Imagine this: take the ends of the
intensive and extensive faces of each incorporeal, twist them and glue them
together. We now have three Möbius strips, three paradoxical surfaces, each
turning in unison. On each side of the strips are the finite, extended, bodily
dimensions – place, noun, Chronos; on the other side are the endless, inten-
sive, separated dimensions – void, verb, Aion. Each side constantly turns into
and out of each other.
In conclusion, as place is occupied space and void is unoccupied space,
Chronos is filled time and Aion is empty time. As Deleuze says, “Chronos is
filled up with states of affairs and the movements of the objects that it mea-
sures. But being an empty and unfolded form of time, the Aion subdivides
ad infinitum that which haunts it without ever inhabiting it.”70 To this we
can add: nouns are filled λεκτά and verbs are empty λεκτά. Nouns are filled
by states of affairs (for example, when a denotation corresponds to a state
of affairs, it is considered true), while verbs are endlessly empty or displace
themselves. Taken together, space, time, and λεκτόν are the three incorpore-
als in the Deleuze-Stoic encounter. Separating and connecting each of them
is that sinuous Stoic surface. Stoic ontology, expressed in its encounter with
Deleuze, constructs a dynamic organization composed of intensive and exten-
sive dimensions separated and connected by a single boundary line.
Through it all, paradoxes are not explained away but instead retained
for their power to produce a new distribution of thought. The Stoic insis-
tence on retaining the productive promise of paradoxes without recourse to
transcendent forms or eternal causes is what, Deleuze argues, makes them
innovative initiators of a new image of the philosopher, one that runs coun-
ter to Platonism and Aristotelianism. This “new image,” Deleuze contends,
“is already closely linked to the paradoxical constitution of the theory of
sense,” 71and, we here add, space and time. These three incorporeals are par-
adoxically structured by the slight Stoic surface separating and connecting
their respective extensive and intensive dimensions. It is through this strange
account of the incorporeals in Stoic ontology, along with several other para-
doxically constituted theories, that the Stoics become the initiators of a new
image of philosophy that spawns a lineage of thought leading, eventually, to
Deleuze himself.
notes
1. Tacitus, Annals, 15.62–4.

2. Ibid. 15.64. While Socrates, just prior to his death, asked that a cock be
sacrificed to Asclepius, Seneca offered the liquid of the water in which he
died as a drink-offering to Jupiter the Liberator; see Plato, Phaedo, 118a.
3. Deleuze wrote a delightful essay on the “exhausted” in Samuel Beckett.
For an English translation, see Gilles Deleuze, “The Exhausted,” in Essays
Critical and Clinical.
284 ryan j. johnson
4. The account of Deleuze’s death can be found, among other places, in André
Pierre Colombat, “November 4, 1995: Deleuze’s Death as an Event,”
which draws a similar line from Stoic deaths to Deleuze’s own.
5. Deleuze, Logic of Sense [LS], p. 156; Deleuze here points to Maurice
Blanchot, L’Espace Littéraire [Blanchot], pp. 104–5.
6. Deleuze, LS, pp. xiii–xiv.
7. Double Herm of Socrates and Seneca, Inv. No. Sk 391 (R 106) (Berlin:
State Museums, Pergamon Museum, c.300–350 ad). In 1813, this double-
sided portrait – showing two male heads, back to back – was unearthed in
Rome: one was clearly labeled, in Greek, “Socrates,” the other, in Latin,
“Seneca.” See James Romm, Dying Every Day: Seneca at the Court of
Nero.
8. Seneca, Selected Philosophical Letters [Letters], “Letter to Lucilius,”
58.15. See also the invaluable collection from Anthony Long and David
Sedley, The Hellenistic Philosophers [THP], 27A (for subsequent refer-
ences to texts from Long and Sedley’s collection I will cite the text’s loca-
tion both in THP and, parenthetically, in its original source; other places
I cite Long and Sedley’s commentary through a reference to the page num-
bers of the pertinent volume).
9. Ibid. 58.14.
10. THP 30E (Simplicius, On Aristotle’s Categories, 105, 8–16). Vanessa de
Harven, The Coherence of Stoic Ontology, has developed an interesting
reading of this third category, which is neither corporeal nor incorporeal,
and so expresses a second kind of subsistence.
11. Letters 58.18. This move is significant, for it prepares the way for the affir-
mation of the reality only of individuals or singular things, and the denial
of the reality of universals. Spinoza, an early modern Stoic and member of
Deleuze’s so-called “minor tradition,” later makes this move in Book II of
his Ethics.
12. Plato, Sophist, 247e (trans. Nicholas P. White, from Plato, Complete
Works, ed. John Cooper).
13. Émile Bréhier, La Théorie des Incorporels dans l’Ancien Stoicism
[Bréhier], p.10. The other major influence on Deleuze’s Stoicism is Victor
Goldschmidt, whom we address below.
14. THP vol. 1, pp. 162–6. The Stoic theory of incorporeals is reminiscent
of Meinong’s intriguing ontology, which postulates an ontological state
between existence and non-existence, which he calls subsistence (bestehen);
see Alexius Meinong, Über Möglichkeit und Wahrscheinlichkeit.
15. John Sellars, Stoicism, p. 84; unless otherwise noted, all emphases in
quotations are from the original text.
16. Deleuze, Difference and Repetition [DR], pp. 82, 85, 107.
17. Cicero, Academica, 1.39; trans. Charles Brittain, slightly modified. See
also THP 45A.
18. LS p. 20.
19. Ibid. p. 6.
20. Ibid. p. 20; all additions in brackets are my own unless otherwise noted.
21. The entailment of ethics from ontology is a constant theme in the figures
with whom Deleuze had his most important encounters. Think of, for
example, the continuous movement from metaphysics to ethics or ethics
to metaphysics in Spinoza and Nietzsche, two later Stoic sympathizers.
22. DR pp. 68, 244; LS p. 7.
23. In The Logic of Sense Deleuze also uses the Möbius strip imagery to
describe both Stoicism and Lewis Caroll (LS pp. 11, 20, 123, 337).
24. In fact, a Möbius strip is helpful for thinking about many features of
Stoicism, for example their innovations in logic, their productive use of
paradoxes, their formulation of an eternal recurrence, and so on.
25. THP 27D (Sextus Empiricus, Against the Professors, 10.218).
26. THP 49B (Sextus Empiricus, Against the Professors, 10.3–4).
27. LS p. 8; see also Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, 7.186.
We can understand this process through what Deleuze calls the dynamic
genesis of language. Language is made possible by means of “that which
separates sounds from bodies and organizes them into propositions, free-
ing them for the expressive function” (LS p. 181). Deleuze articulates
three separate stages in this genesis: (1) The primary order of language is
sounded out in the depths of bodies, in the guttural cries, cracklings, and
burstings of noise erupting out of the sonorous cavities of the body. The
clearest examples of this are the noises of an infant. The body of an infant
is not a clearly defined and controlled entity, but is rather a disorganized
collection of intensities, which emit screams, farts, piss, and various bodily
flows. There is no sense to these sounds. They are just noises. It is no
coincidence that the infant is the first example of the body-without-organs
in Anti-Oedipus. (2) Out of the clanging, incoherent noise, the tertiary
arrangement emerges. The infant begins to pick up on a repeated sound.
The voice of a parent emerges as a “voice from above”: “from noises as
[. . .] passions of bodies in depth, to the voice as the entity of the heights”
(LS p. 229). Although the child does not yet have access to the domain of
sense lurking within this “familial hum of voices” (ibid.), it does discern a
pre-existing and organized system of sounds. The tertiary arrangement of
language is the pre-formed system of meaningful words and sentences. (3)
The question thus concerns how to move from non-language to language,
from noise to meaning. Deleuze’s answer is the secondary organization
of language, the site of sense (and nonsense). It is called “secondary” not
simply to confuse but in order to locate an element of language that lies
between the pure noise of the primary order and the meaningful voice of
the tertiary arrangement.
28. LS p. 91.
29. Bréhier pp. 11–12; as quoted in LS p. 5.
30. Bréhier p. 11.
31. LS p. 63.
32. Blanchot, p. 160.
286 ryan j. johnson
33. LS p. 151.
34. Ibid. p. 152.
35. Ibid.
36. Ibid. p. 156.
37. Ibid. p. 19.
38. Ibid. p. 20.
39. Sextus uses the name “Dion,” but I replaced this with “Deleuze” in keeping
with the theme of the essay.
40. Sextus Empiricus, Against the Professors, 8.11–12; as quoted in Sellars,
Stoicism, pp. 61–2. See also THP 33B.
41. Stoics make a further distinction between complete and incomplete λεκτά.
Incomplete λεκτά are words or phrases that only indicate the potential for
sense but do not contain sense, for example, “. . . has died.” Bréhier defines
incomplete λεκτά as “verbs without subjects,” and a complete λεκτόν as a
“verb accompanied by its subject” (Bréhier, p. 17). Complete λεκτά convey
a sense such that it prevents the need to ask “Who?,” Who “has died”?
“Deleuze has died.”
42. Aristotle, Physics, IV.11, 219b1–2.
43. THP 51A (Simplicius, On Aristotle’s Categories, 350, 15–16).
44. Consider THP 51B (Stobaeus, 1.106, 5–23).
45. THP 51B (Stobaeus, 1.106, 5–23).
46. THP 50A (Stobaeus 1.142, 2–6).
47. THP 51B (Stobaeus, 1.106, 5–23).
48. LS p. 63.
49. THP 51B (Stobaeus 1.106, 5–23); I have opted for “exist” to translate
ὑπάρχειν, here and in the next quotation, rather than Long and Sedley’s
choice of “belong.”
50. THP 51B (Stobaeus 1.106, 5–23).
51. LS p. 162.
52. THP p. 51C (Plutarch, On Common Conceptions, 1081c–1082a).
53. LS p. 6.
54. Ibid. 5.
55. Deleuze, Negotiations, 5–6; emphasis added.
56. Victor Goldschmidt, Le Système Stoïcien et l’Idée de Temps [Goldschmidt],
p. 39.
57. John Sellars also points to this, in “Aiôn and Chronos” [“AC”], p. 17. The
passage Goldschmidt has in mind is Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 4.3.
58. In both Meditations 2.14 and 10.31 Marcus uses the phrase “in infinite
time [ἐν τῷ ἀπείρῳ χρόνῳ].”
59. Pierre Hadot offers a similar critique of Goldschmidt (Pierre Hadot, The
Inner Citadel: The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, pp. 131–7). Sellars has
a helpful list of the various instances of χρόνος and αἰών in the Meditations
at “AC” p. 18.
60. LS p. 61.
61. LS pp. 5, 61.
62. “Consequently no time is present exactly, but it is broadly [κατὰ πλάτος]

said to be so”; THP 51B.
63. Sellars records the various ways scholars have translated this phrase,
including both Goldschmidt and Hadot (“AC” p. 15).
64. DR p. 237.
65. LS pp. 164, 168.
66. Goldschmidt p. 39.
67. This discussion appears mostly in Series 3–12 of The Logic of Sense, but
especially in the examination of the four dimensions of the proposition:
denotation, manifestation, signification, and sense.
68. LS p. 182. For more on Deleuze’s account of denotation, as well as the
corresponding features of the proposition – manifestation, signification,
sense – see the “Third Series of the Proposition,” LS pp. 12–22.
69. Goldschmidt p. 39.
70. LS p. 64.
71. Ibid. p. xiv.
bibliography
Aristotle, Aristotelis: Physica, ed. W. D. Ross (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1951).

Blanchot, M., L’Espace Littéraire (Paris: Gallimard, 1995).
Bréhier, É., La Théorie des Incorporels dans l’Ancien Stoicism, 9th edn (Paris:
Vrin, [1928] 1997).
Cicero, M. T., On Academic Scepticism, trans. C. Brittain (Indianapolis:
Hackett, 2006).
Colombat, A. P., “November 4, 1995: Deleuze’s Death as an Event,” Man and
World, 29 (1996), pp. 235–49.
de Harven, V., The Coherence of Stoic Ontology (Berkeley: University of Cali-
fornia: http://guides.lib.berkeley.edu/dissertations_theses, 2012).
Deleuze, G., Difference and Repetition, trans. P. Patton (New York: Columbia
University Press, [1968] 1994).
Deleuze, G., The Logic of Sense, trans. M. Lester and C. Stivale, ed. C. V.
Boundas (New York: Columbia University Press, [1969] 1990).
Deleuze, G., Negotations: 1972–1990, trans. M. Joughin (New York: Columbia
University Press, [1990] 1995).
Deleuze, G., “The Exhausted,” trans. A. Uhlmann, in G. Deleuze, Essays
Critical and Clinical, ed. D. W. Smith and M. A. Greco (London: Verso,
1998), pp. 152–74.
Deleuze, G. and Guattari, F., Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia,
trans. R. Hurley, M. Seem, and H. R. Lane (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, [1972] 1983).
Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, trans. R. D. Hicks (London:
Heinemann, 1925).
Goldschmidt, V., Le Système Stoïcien et l’Idée de Temps (Paris: Vrin, 1953).
288 ryan j. johnson
Hadot, P., The Inner Citadel: The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, trans.
M. Chase (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, [1993] 1998).
Long, A. A. and Sedley, D. (eds. and trans.), The Hellenistic Philosophers, 2 vols
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987).
Marcus, A., Meditations, ed. and trans. C. R. Haines (Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1916).
Meinong, A., Über Möglichkeit und Wahrscheinlichkeit: Beiträge zur Gegen-
standstheorie und Erkenntnistheorie (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1913).
Plato, Complete Works, ed. J. M. Cooper (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997).
Romm, J., Dying Every Day: Seneca at the Court of Nero (New York: Vintage,
2014).
Sellars, J., Stoicism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006).
Sellars, J., “Aiôn and Chronos: Deleuze and the Stoic Theory of Time”
(originally in Collapse, 3 (2007), pp. 177–205); accessed at http://www.
academia.edu/9816442/Ai%C3%B4n_and_Chronos_Deleuze_and_the_
Stoic_Theory_of_Time, retrieved 2015, pp. 1–26.
Seneca, Selected Philosophical Letters, trans. B. Inwood (Oxford: Clarendon,
2007).
Spinoza, B., A Spinoza Reader: The Ethics and Other Works, ed. and trans.
E. Curley (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994).
Tacitus, The Annals, trans. A. J. Woodman (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2004).

Deleuze y El Estoicismo

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Deleuze y El Estoicismo

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Deleuze y El Estoicismo

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Edinburgh University Press

Chapter Title: On the Surface: The Deleuze-Stoicism Encounter

Book Title: Contemporary Encounters with Ancient Metaphysics

This book is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0

“the event of death”

This twofold character, along with the ever-so-thin threshold separating

stoic ontology and something

To exist thus means to be able to engage in causal relations, to bring about

the “four” incorporeals

On the traditional reading, the Stoics postulate four types of incorporeals:

Space = [I] Void + [II] Place

[Chrysippus] says most clearly that no time [χρόνος] is wholly present

Chronos and Aion

Time must be grasped twice, in two complementary [complémentaires]

the three cracked incorporeals

1. Tacitus, Annals, 15.62–4.

62. “Consequently no time is present exactly, but it is broadly [κατὰ πλάτος]

Aristotle, Aristotelis: Physica, ed. W. D. Ross (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1951).

You might also like