In Every Case The Storyteller Is A

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.

Uncleanness Is So Much The Attribute Of Officials That One Could Almost Regard Them As Enormous Parasites...in The Same Way The Fathers In Kafka's Strange Families Batten On Their Sons, Lying On Top Of Them Like Giant Parasites. They Not Only Prey Upon Their Strength, But Gnaw Away At The Sons' Right To Exist. The Fathers Punish, But They Are At The Same Time The Accusers. The Sin Of Which They Accuse Their Sons Seems To Be A Kind Of Original Sin.

The Art Of The Critic In A Nutshell: To Coin Slogans Without Betraying Ideas. The Slogans Of An Inadequate Criticism Peddle Ideas To Fashion.

As Long As There Is Still One Beggar Around, There Will Still Be Myth.

To Perceive The Aura Of An Object We Look At Means To Invest It With The Ability To Look At Us In Return.