Ownership Is The Most Intimate Relationship That

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 Only Way Of Knowing A Person Is To Love Them Without Hope.

The Work Of Memory Collapses Time.

In The Convulsions Of The Commodity Economy, We Begin To Recognize The Monuments Of The Bourgeoisie As Ruins Even Before They Have Crumbled.

There Is No Muse Of Philosophy, Nor Is There One Of Translation.