The power of a text when it is read is different from the power it has when it is copied out. Only the copied text thus commands the soul of him who is occupied with it, whereas the mere reader never discovers the new aspects of his inner self that are opened by the text, that road cut through the interior jungle forever closing behind it: because the reader follows the movement of his mind in the free flight of day-dreaming, whereas the copier submits it to command.

To perceive the aura of an object we look at means to invest it with the ability to look at us in return.

In other words, the unique value of the "authentic" work of art has its basis in ritual, the location of its original use value. This ritualistic basis, however remote, is still recognizable as secularized ritual even in the most profane forms of the cult of beauty.

Books and harlots have their quarrels in public.

Literature tells very little to those who understand it.

The distracted person, too, can form habits.

How many cities have revealed themselves to me in the marches I undertook in the pursuit of books!