Never Stop Writing Because You Have Run

Rather Than Ask, What Is The Attitude Of A Work To The Relations Of Production Of Its Time? I Should Like To Ask, What Is Its Position In Them.

Our Image Of Happiness Is Indissolubly Bound Up With The Image Of The Past.

Every Image Of The Past That Is Not Recognised By The Present As One Of Its Own Threatens To Disappear Irretrievably.

We Have Long Forgotten The Ritual By Which The House Of Our Life Was Erected. But When It Is Under Assault And Enemy Bombs Are Already Taking Their Toll, What Enervated, Perverse Antiquities Do They Not Lay Bare In The Foundations.

Even The Most Perfect Reproduction Of A Work Of Art Is Lacking In One Element: Its Presence In Time And Space, Its Unique Existence At The Place Where It Happens To Be.