The hardest hit, as everywhere, are those who have no choice.

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.

Love you will find only where you may show yourself weak without provoking strength.

The task of art today is to bring chaos into order.

If time is money, it seems moral to save time, above all one's own, and such parsimony is excused by consideration for others. One is straight-forward.

Writing poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric.

Life has changed into a timeless succession of shocks, interspaced with empty, paralysed intervals.