Modernity Is A Qualitative, Not A Chronological,

There Is No True Life Within A False Life.

The Capacity For Fear And For Happiness Are The Same, The Unrestricted Openness To Experience Amounting To Self-abandonment In Which The Vanquished Rediscovers Himself.

In The End, Glorification Of Splendid Underdogs Is Nothing Other Than Glorification Of The Splendid System That Makes Them So.

Life Has Changed Into A Timeless Succession Of Shocks, Interspaced With Empty, Paralysed Intervals.

He Who Integrates Is Lost.