The Crowd Is The Veil Through Which

Bourgeois Existence Is The Regime Of Private Affairs . . . And The Family Is The Rotten, Dismal Edifice In Whose Closets And Crannies The Most Ignominious Instincts Are Deposited. Mundane Life Proclaims The Total Subjugation Of Eroticism To Privacy.

If Sleep Is The Apogee Of Physical Relaxation, Boredom Is The Apogee Of Mental Relaxation. Boredom Is The Dream Bird That Hatches The Egg Of Experience.

I Came Into The World Under The Sign Of Saturn -- The Star Of The Slowest Revolution, The Planet Of Detours And Delays.

Experience Has Taught Me That The Shallowest Of Communist Platitudes Contains More Of A Hierarchy Of Meaning Than Contemporary Bourgeois Profundity.

Any Translation Which Intends To Perform A Transmitting Function Cannot Transmit Anything But Information-hence, Something Inessential. This Is The Hallmark Of Bad Translations.