I Cannot Believe In A

Art Furnishes Us With Eyes And Hands And Above All The Good Conscience To Be Able To Turn Ourselves Into Such A Phenomenon.

Through Searching Out Origins, One Becomes A Crab. The Historian Looks Backwards, And Finally He Also Believes Backwards.

Immortal Is The Moment When I Engendered The Recurrence. For The Sake Of This Moment I Bear The Recurrence.

For It Is Only As An Aesthetic Phenomenon That Existence And The World Are Eternally Justified.

A Good Aphorism Is Too Hard For The Tooth Of Time, And Is Not Worn Away By All The Centuries, Although It Serves As Food For Every Epoch. Hence It Is The Greatest Paradox In Literature, The Imperishable In The Midst Of Change, The Nourishment Which Always Remains Highly Valued, As Salt Does, And Never Becomes Stupid Like Salt.