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

Proletarian language is dictated by hunger. The poor chew words to fill their bellies.

People at the top are closing ranks so tightly that all possibility of subjective deviation has gone, and difference can be sought only in the more distinguished cut of an evening dress.

Art as a whole is a riddle. Another way of putting this is to say that art expresses something while at the same time hiding it.

Tact is the discrimination of differences. It consists in conscious deviations.

He who matures early lives in anticipation.

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.