We consecrate the world with our own subjectivity, investing people, places, things, and events with a kind of idiomatic significance. As we inhabit this world of ours, we amble about in a field of pregnant objects that contribute to the dense psychic textures that constitute self experience. Very often we select and use objects in ways unconsciously intended to bring up such imprints: indeed, we do this many times each day, sort of thinking ourself out, by evoking constellations of inner experience. At the same time, however, the people, things, and events of our world simply happen to us, and when they do, we are called into differing forms of being by chance. Thus we oscillate between thinking ourself out through the selection of objects that promote inner experience and being thought out, so to speak, by the environment which plays upon the self.

Christopher Bollas, Being a Character: Psychoanalysis and Self Experience

Philosophy likes to present itself as a public practice, though the thinker is usually found at home, either symbolically or actually. Philosophers are private intellectuals long before a few of them vie for public attention, sometimes to disastrous effect. Philosophy is actually a kind of interior design put on public display—a house tour, as it were. I can enter some philosophers' space by engaging with their work, but I must remember that this is their mental space. I can pay a visit, but I can't move in for good.

David Kishik, Self Study: Notes on the Schizoid Condition

Barthes's text seeks to deconstruct—or to reconstruct—the ontological foundations of the autobiographical text. This is why it works so rigorously against being nostalgic, why it works, in fact, to present nostalgia as the condition of an illusion. In methodological fashion, it resists nostalgia for the past, nostalgia for a past "self," and nostalgia for a more authentic narrative mode with which to present both. Barthes writes about himself in his book "without . . . ever knowing whether it is about my past or my present that I am speaking". In denying that his past has any advantage over his present, his text rejects nostalgia in favor of the more creative moments in which he is actually composing it. The very negation of "recovery," his "patchwork" text is a rewriting of the self who writes: "I . . . rewrite myself—at a distance, a great distance—here and now". For Barthes, nostalgia constitutes the illusory sense that there is a "place" for the autobiographer to return to, and another self there for him to reanimate. A corollary of the idea that the self can simply be "divided," this notion of a "homesick" self is replaced with a more ghostly image of the subject as "dispersed" and "diffracted" in the present.

Paul Jay, Being in the Text: Self-Representation from Wordsworth to Roland Barthes