For what is the program of the bourgeois parties? A bad poem on springtime, filled to bursting with metaphors.
The only way of knowing a person is to love them without hope.
History breaks down into images, not into stories.
In the convulsions of the commodity economy, we begin to recognize the monuments of the bourgeoisie as ruins even before they have crumbled.
All disgust is originally disgust at touching.
We do not always proclaim loudly the most important thing we have to say. Nor do we always privately share it with those closest to us, our intimate friends, those who have been most devotedly ready to receive our confession.