Modernity is a qualitative, not a chronological, category.
Every work of art is an uncommitted crime.
Intolerance of ambiguity is the mark of an authoritarian personality.
In the end indignation over kitsch is anger at tis shameless revelling in the joy of imitation.
Exuberant health is always, as such, sickness also.
Life has changed into a timeless succession of shocks, interspaced with empty, paralysed intervals.