Quality is decided by the depth at which the work incorporates the alternatives within itself, and so masters them.

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

He who integrates is lost.

Happiness is obsolete: uneconomic.

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

The good man is he who rules himself as he does his own property: his autonomous being is modelled on material power.

Exuberant health is always, as such, sickness also.