As long as there is still one beggar around, there will still be myth.

Rather than ask, What is the attitude of a work to the relations of production of its time? I should like to ask, What is its position in them.

Melancholy betrays the world for the sake of knowledge. But in its tenacious self-absorption it embraces dead objects in its contemplation, in order to redeem them

In the world's structure dream loosens individuality like a bad tooth.

History breaks down into images, not into stories.

Writers are really people who write books not because they are poor, but because they are dissatisfied with the books which they could buy but do not like.

Not to find one’s way around a city does not mean much. But to lose one’s way in a city, as one loses one’s way in a forest, requires some schooling.