The man who is thus outside the confines of every value-combination, and has become the exclusive representative of an individual value, is metaphysically an outcast, for his autonomy presupposes the resolution and disintegration of all system into its individual elements; such a man is liberated from values and from style, and can be influenced only by the irrational.

The goddess of beauty is the goddess Kitsch.

Were one merely to seek information, one should inquire of the man who hates, but if one wishes to know what truly is, one better ask the one who loves

Although every man believes that his decisions and resolutions involve the most multifarious factors, in reality they are mere oscillation between flight and longing.

Kitsch is certainly not "bad art," it forms its own closed system.

Are we, then, insane because we have not gone mad?

While love ceaselessly strives toward that which lies at the hiddenmost center, hatred only perceives the topmost surface . . .