Do we have to lie to understand Antigone? Can we avoided stepping into the domain of destroyed certainties in order there, at the border to this domain and in daring to step over the border, to come across Antigone about whom we know that she turned a lie into her truth without offering even momentary resistance against it? If Antigone’s lie, which comes to rest neither in the love of Polyneikes, nor in the exaggerated fulfilment of a divine law and not even in the pleasure of merely opposing Creon, exists, it may become necessary to call this lie the love of lying in general. Perhaps a mad girl has to bring forth a strong image of lying, perhaps the rage and resoluteness of this mad girl is dedicated from the outset to the allegory of measureless love. Perhaps loving does not mean anything more than lying and loving the lie of love itself. Perhaps there is no simple beyond for this original ideology.