Laughing In The Cultural Industry Is Mockery

Only A Humanity To Whom Death Has Become As Indifferent As Its Members, That Has Itself Died, Can Inflict It Administratively On Innumerable People.

Suffering Has As Much Right To Be Expressed As A Martyr Has To Cry Out. So It May Have Been False To Say That Writing Poetry After Auschwitz Is Impossible.

Even The Loveliest Dream Bears Like A Blemish Its Difference From Reality, The Awareness That What It Grants Is Mere Illusion.

Love Is The Power To See Similarity In The Dissimilar.

Thus Is Order Ensured: Some Have To Play The Game Because They Cannot Otherwise Live, And Those Who Could Live Otherwise Are Kept Out Because They Do Not Want To Play The Game. It Is As If The Class From Which Independent Intellectuals Have Defected Takes Its Revenge, By Pressing Its Demands Home In The Very Domain Where The Deserter Seeks Refuge.