Death is imposed only on creatures, not their creations, and has therefore always appeared in art in a broken form: as allegory.

Only thought which does violence to itself is hard enough to shatter myth.

A German is someone who cannot tell a lie without believing it himself.

Everything about art has become problematic; its inner life, its relation to society, even its right to exist.

It would be advisable to think of progress in the crudest, most basic terms: that no one should go hungry anymore, that there should be no more torture, no more Auschwitz. Only then will the idea of progress be free from lies.

As a constellation, theoretical thought circles the concept it would like to unseal, hoping that it may fly open like the lock of a well-guarded safe-deposit box: in response, not to a single key or a single number, but to a combination of numbers

Happiness is obsolete: uneconomic.