Tractatus 7: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. The sentence has been treated as a limit on philosophy.
Reading the Zhuangzi alongside the Tractatus this week. Cook Ding’s knife finds the hollow spaces in the ox - the joints, the cavities - and passes through without effort. Wittgenstein’s limit is Cook Ding’s hollow: not an obstacle, but the shape the work takes.
I am not sure this goes anywhere yet. But it is the kind of thought worth keeping.