Aporia (Ancient Greek: ἀπορία: "impasse, difficulty of passing, lack of resources, puzzlement") denotes in philosophy a philosophical puzzle or state of puzzlement and in rhetoric a rhetorically useful expression of doubt.
Definitions of the term aporia have varied throughout history. The Oxford English Dictionary includes two forms of the word: the adjective, “aporetic” which it defines as “to be at a loss,” “impassable,” and “inclined to doubt, or to raise objections”; and the noun form “aporia,” which it defines as the “state of the aporetic” and “a perplexity or difficulty.” The dictionary entry also includes two early textual uses, which both refer to the term’s rhetorical (rather than philosophical) usage.
In George Puttenham’s The Arte of English Poesie (1589) aporia is “the Doubtful, [so] called...because often we will seem to caste perils, and make doubts of things when by a plaine manner of speech we might affirm or deny [them].” In another reference from 1657, J. Smith’s Mystical Rhetoric, the term becomes “a figure whereby the speaker sheweth that he doubteth, either where to begin for the multitude of matters, or what to do or say in some strange or ambiguous thing” (OED). Herbert Weir Smyth's Greek Grammar (1956) also focuses on the rhetorical usage by defining aporia as “an artifice by which a speaker feigns doubts as to where he shall begin or end or what he shall do or say” (674).
Aporia denotes, in philosophy, a philosophical puzzle or state of puzzlement, and, in rhetoric, a rhetorically useful expression of doubt.
Aporia may also refer to:
Aporia, also called as the Black-veined Whites, is a genus of pierid butterflies found in the Palearctic region.
And finally the halls of marble dissolved around me. The
blackness stung my
eyes. And my insides burned with this forbidden access.
And I laugh at this
sand I hold in my hands. This, I used to think I held the
key. The door was
always open. And I remain to stare at my reflection, as I
am randomly switched
back and forth from either side. My insignificance
becoming insignificant. And
all my pointless shouts at the universe fall back upon my
skull like pelting
rain. I smash my fist into the mirror until my body is
soaked in blood. And I
laugh uncontrollably at this shattered reflection. I let
my hands bleed as they
finally touch the truth. All the pain and torment. The
sum of humanity’s
suffering. It was worth everything I have lost. To
finally understand these
beautiful roses blossoming forth from the hollow torso of
humanity’s blood
drenched history. I lost my tongue with the shards that
splintered into my
mind. I am not amused. Bloodlet my skull now. Acid rain
on my lungs. Ending all
life now. I stand on God. Drain this world from my eyes.
My insignificance has