Leibniz knows no antinomies, only antonomasia. Neither a law nor a principle stands in conflict with another equally valid one; rather, a name takes the place of a concept and a concept replaces a name. Language and thought-not reason and intuition-find themselves at odds. Yet antonomasia, unlike antinomia, never comes down to a critical decision. Although the labyrinth of freedom to which Leibniz refers throughout his writings has often been seen as a prefiguration of the third antinomy of pure reason, it not only does not bring to light an essential conflict of human reason with itself; it, like all labyrinths, aims at the avoidance of conflict altogether. Not without reason, then, does the The'odide, although always engaged in the refutation of contrary doctrines, eschew not only polemics but also a general critique of every possible adversarial position. An antinomy interrupts the progress of reason on its way towards a conception of the whole; antonomasia, on the other hand, disrupts the continuity of denomination such that the relation of language to conceptuality appears as a problem, the solution to which demands ever more complex alterations in both linguistic and conceptual structures. Yet these alterations never evince an ineluctable-Kant says fated-conflict. Canonized not only in the definition common to Greek rhetoricians and Quintilian-Antonomasia, quae aliquid pro nomine partbut also in various revisions, including its exact inverse,1 antonomasia itself demonstrates the arbitrariness of definition and