One must have tradition in oneself, to hate it properly.

Because thought has by now been perverted into the solving of assigned problems, even what is not assigned is processed like a problem.

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.

The aim of jazz is the mechanical reproduction of a regressive moment, a castration symbolism. 'Give up your masculinity, let yourself be castrated,' the eunuchlike sound of the jazz band both mocks and proclaims, 'and you will be rewarded, accepted into a fraternity which shares the mystery of impotence with you, a mystery revealed at the moment of the initiation rite.

In many people it is already an impertinence to say 'I'.

The almost insoluble task is to let neither the power of others, nor our own powerlessness, stupefy us.

The sublime is only a step removed from the ridiculous.