Intolerance Of Ambiguity Is The Mark Of

Thinking No Longer Means Anymore Than Checking At Each Moment Whether One Can Indeed Think.

It Is Barbaric To Write Poetry After Auschwitz.

If Time Is Money, It Seems Moral To Save Time, Above All One's Own, And Such Parsimony Is Excused By Consideration For Others. One Is Straight-forward.

The Body's Habituation To Walking As Normal Stems From The Good Olddays. It Was The Bourgeois Form Of Locomotion: Physicaldemythologization, Free Of The Spell Of Hieratic Pacing, Rooflesswandering, Breathless Flight. Human Dignity Insisted On The Right Towalk, A Rhythm Not Extorted From The Body By Command Or Terror. Thewalk, The Stroll, Were Private Ways Of Passing Time, The Heritage Ofthe Feudal Promenade In The Nineteenth Century.

Estrangement Shows Itself Precisely In The Elimination Of Distance Between People.