It Is Precisely The Purpose Of The

Ownership Is The Most Intimate Relationship That One Can Have To Objects. Not That They Come Alive In Him; It Is He Who Lives In Them.

Books, Too, Begin Like The Week – With A Day Of Rest In Memory Of Their Creation. The Preface Is Their Sunday.

Any Order Is A Balancing Act Of Extreme Precariousness.

Bourgeois Existence Is The Regime Of Private Affairs . . . And The Family Is The Rotten, Dismal Edifice In Whose Closets And Crannies The Most Ignominious Instincts Are Deposited. Mundane Life Proclaims The Total Subjugation Of Eroticism To Privacy.

A Blind Determination To Save The Prestige Of Personal Existence, Rather Than, Through An Impartial Disdain For Its Impotence And Entanglement, At Least To Detach It From The Background Of Universal Delusion, Is Triumphing Almost Everywhere.