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.

In psycho-analysis nothing is true except the exaggerations.

A pencil and rubber are of more use to thought than a battalion of assistants. To happiness the same applies as to truth: one does not have it, but is in it.

If across the Atlantic the ideology was pride, here it is delivering the goods.

When all actions are mathematically calculated, they also take on a stupid quality.

The gods look in pleasure on penitent sinners.

The individual mirrors in his individuation the preordained social laws of exploitation, however mediated.