It is a matter of variants on a fairly fixed set of ideas. When you strive to go beyond those ideas you find yourself having just re-entered one of them but by an unfamiliar entrance - a trap-door, a back-door, or a high window. Everything looks different, but only just for a moment before you realise where you are. Such are ideas, there is only so much you can do with them. A clearer mind overlooking your hoard would shake his head and say 'you can't get there from here', and then perhaps add that the 'here' and the 'there' and the 'beyond', all those spatial metaphors, are part of the baggage that came with them and ought to be abandoned. It is not so much a matter of ideas perhaps as of certain metaphors, or of abstract figures that give rise to metaphors, that is to flimsy constructions out of words that serve and then collapse. One ought to look at the life of these metaphors, like creatures in a tidal pool, some are familiar and some are quite new. Do they all live together in harmony? Yes, but that doesn't prevent some of them from eating others of them. When language is stretched or twisted in new ways something, not an idea, seems to flash, and it's no longer your private fumbling - but this is precisely the most dangerous moment. To not be yourself, then different rules apply, and these are the very rules you were put there to escape.