All Disgust Is Originally Disgust At Touching.

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.

All Great Works Of Literature Either Dissolve A Genre Or Invent One.

The Destructive Character Lives From The Feeling, Not That Life Is Worth Living, But That Suicide Is Not Worth The Trouble.

No Poem Is Intended For The Reader, No Picture For The Beholder, No Symphony For The Listener.

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.