In psycho-analysis nothing is true except the exaggerations.

He who has loved and who betrays love does harm not only to the image of the past, but to the past itself.

Kitsch parodies catharsis...It is in vain to try to draw the boundaries abstractly between aesthetic fiction and kitsch's emotional plunder. It is a poison admixed to all art; excising it is today one of art's despairing efforts.

In the end indignation over kitsch is anger at tis shameless revelling in the joy of imitation.

Work while you work, play while you play - this is a basic rule of repressive self-discipline.

Talent is perhaps nothing other than successfully sublimated rage.

In the end, glorification of splendid underdogs is nothing other than glorification of the splendid system that makes them so.