Love is a battle, and I plan to go on fighting. To the end.

Without realizing it, the individual composes his life according to the laws of beauty even in times of greatest distress.

[Kafka] transformed the profoundly antipoetic material of a highly bureaucratized society into the great poetry of the novel; he transformed a very ordinary story of a man who cannot obtain a promised job . . . into myth, into epic, into a kind of beauty never before seen.

Facts mean little compared to attitudes. To contradict rumor or sentiment is as futile as arguing against a believer's faith in the Immaculate Conception. You have simply become a victim of faith, Comrade Assistant.

Is not parody the eternal lot of man?

Love is a continual interrogation. I don’t know of a better definition of love.

A man is responsible for his ignorance.