Work On Good Prose Has

Mechanical Reproduction Emancipates The Work Of Art From Its Parasitical Dependence On Ritual.

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.

All Religions Have Honored The Beggar. For He Proves That In A Matter At The Same Time As Prosaic And Holy, Banal And Regenerative As The Giving Of Alms, Intellect And Morality, Consistency And Principles Are Miserably Inadequate.

Less And Less Frequently Do We Encounter People With The Ability To Tell A Tale Properly. More And More Often There Is Embarrassment All Around When The Wish To Hear A Story Is Expressed. It Is As If Something That Seemed Inalienable To Us, The Securest Among Our Possessions, Were Taken From Us: The Ability To Exchange Our Experiences...experience Has Fallen In Value. And It Looks As If It Is Continuing To Fall Into Bottomlessness.

[photography] Has Become More And More Subtle, More And More Modern, And The Result Is That It Is Now Incapable Of Photographing A Tenement Or A Rubbish Heap Without Transfiguring It. Not To Mention A River Dam Or Electric Cable Factory: In Front Of These, Photography Can Now Only Say, How Beautiful!