No idea stays pure. Even the flowering of art isn't pure. And the sun has spots.

Art is so wonderfully irrational, exuberantly pointless, but necessary all the same. Pointless and yet necessary, that's hard for a puritan to understand.

Art is accusation, expression, passion. Art is a fight to the finish between black charcoal and white paper.

The European Union arose on an economic foundation, and it turns out that even this is not a solid base. Cultural identity has been neglected.

Auschwitz speaks against even a right to self-determination that is enjoyed by all other peoples because one of the preconditions for the horror, besides other, older urges, was a strong and united Germany.

You have to calendar time for yourself even if you have no idea what you're going to do with it.