Art is magic delivered from the lie of being truth.

The poor are prevented from thinking by the discipline of others, the rich by their own.

Of the world as it exists, it is not possible to be enough afraid.

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

There is something embarrassing in... the way in which, ... turning suffering into images, harsh and uncompromising though they are, ... wounds the shame we feel in the presence of the victims. For these victims are used to create something, works of art, that are thrown to the consumption of a world which destroyed them.

Exuberant health is always, as such, sickness also.

Art is permitted to survive only if it renounces the right to be different, and integrates itself into the omnipotent realm of the profane.