Only He Who Can View His Own

Language Has Unmistakably Made Plain That Memory Is Not An Instrument For Exploring The Past But Its Theater. It Is The Medium Of Past Experience, Just As The Earth Is The Medium In Which Dead Cities Lie Buried.

The Concept Of Progress Must Be Grounded In The Idea Of Catastrophe. That Things Are 'status Quo' Is The Catastrophe

The Adjustment Of Reality To The Masses And Of The Masses To Reality Is A Process Of Unlimited Scope, As Much For Thinking As For Perception.

What Has Been Forgotten Is Never Something Purely Individual. Everything Forgotten Mingles With What Has Been Forgotten Of The Prehistoric World, Forms Countless, Uncertain, Changing Compounds, Yielding A Constant Flow Of New, Strange Products.

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.