I would detail a certain rhetorical instrument I often utilize. For example:
An objection to strong passions.-- The soul rests in all vehement passions.
– Liber I; A Glorious Risk: Philosophemes and Romantic Fragments, no. 190.
The locutionary is simply the domain of what is said, that is, the intended meaning behind what is said and the actual words in which this meaning is transmitted; the illocutionary is the ‘effective’,- often unintended meaning of the linguistic formulation itself, while the perlocutionary is the effect this transmissible meaning, as lectus, has on other ideas and the reader more generally conceived, namely those ideas entirely unconnected to the subject of the perlocutionary act in its various exoteric semioses. In the example aphorism I began this post with, the ‘objection’ raised in the epigram’s title is to the Schopenhauerian thesis that the height of philosophy is disinterested contemplation of beauty, or the Spinozan amore intellectus,- the love of the Intellect or ‘Soul’,- for paradoxically, this state of disinterest or rest would imply vehement pathos, (Differentiation is required for disinterested contemplation, and the only way the philosopher might differentiate between the domain of intellect and that of passion would be precisely through great passions, since his intellect has swallowed up so much of his life and transformed it under the veil of an idea into intellect,- from whose ghostly kingdom he seeks to extricate himself in hope of convalescence from all things worldly,- his rest, his ‘other-wise than philosophy’. As I write elsewhere: “One might read Shakespeare’s Timon of Athens, not to confirm, but to cure his misanthropy. It is only when we see our own qualities revealed in another person that they begin to revile us.” Following what has been said here, one might likewise read Petrarch, not to confirm, but to ‘cure’ his love-pathos; one might read Machiavelli, not to confirm, but to dispense with his cunning and baser political instincts,- so it happens, that one might read Schopenhauer, not to confirm, but to cure his asceticism, so on and so forth. Thus, in another aphorism on the same page as the one I am analyzing now, discussing the achievement truly, of ‘disinterested contemplation’ or escape from pathos: “Thought fertilizes itself through the use of the passions and, like insects, destroys its mate after it has served its use.”) like that precisely from which Schopenhauer seeks to escape,- like that from which the Will, for him, realizes its own perfection in disavowal and overcoming. However, as long as one does not set this as the moral height of human nature, such vehement passions can be enjoyed without offending the philosophic-conscience,- and this is in fact the perlocutionary strategy of the aphorism, for the paradox central to its rhetorical device forces the reader to either reject placing disinterested contemplation of beauty as the height of philosophy, on the one hand, or, on the other, accept the inevitable systematic inconsistency that would compromise the whole ethical relationship between theoretical philosophy and ethical praxis, the derivation of whose equivalence is one of the primary goals of those who advance the formula of the ancient ‘nil admirari’, or a Socratic equivalence between the Good, Beauty, and Truth. A great deal of my writing employs, at various levels, the perlocutionary act, especially to force the reader into doing and thinking things against their own will and philosophical goals, to the ultimate perlocutionary end of replacing ‘their’ goals with-- my goals.