Art is always the replacement of indifference by attention.
Sometimes when reading Goethe I have the paralyzing suspicion that he is trying to be funny.
nothing now exists that is so valuable as whatever theoretically might replace it.
In curved Einsteinian space we are at all times, technically, looking at the back of our own head.
A work of art is a form that articulates forces, making them intelligible.
The birds suffer their suffering each in a lifetime, forgetting it as they go.