Culture (n.) has one secret: the mobility and disposability of psychic energy.
Culture (n.) today has no eyes or heart for what rises from the psyche: such things are suspect at best, and worthless unless they prove their material value on the spot.
Culture (n.) today is extraverted: what a man is within himself is never decisive, and the introverted principle must appeal to the age's tolerance.
Culture (n.) itself inflicted the wound on modern man: differentiating one function means the hypertrophy of one and the atrophy of the rest — an Amfortas' wound that never heals.
Culture (n.) grows by domesticating the animal in man — and every so often the animal answers with a wave of frenzy.
Culture (n.) can be suffered only in a certain amount without injury; culture versus nature is always too much or too little, never either-or.
Culture (n.) is the machine that turns nature's gradient into work: man left to himself lives as a natural phenomenon, like a waterfall, and produces no work at all.
Culture (n.) advances only through an individual, conscious of his isolation, cutting a path through untrodden territory and shaking off collective beliefs.
Culture (n.) that cuts man off from the primordial images is no culture at all but, increasingly, a prison or a stable.
Culture (n.) is a pleasing patina, extraordinarily thin: a mere fifty generations ago many Europeans were no better than primitives.
Culture (n.) is our only weapon against the fearful danger of mass-mindedness.
Culture (n.) that is foreign defeats mediocre minds in two ways: they perish trying to uproot themselves, or they criticize it without ever eating its bread or drinking its wine.
Culture (n.) explained by repression becomes a long-drawn sigh over the loss of paradise and a bogus substitute activity — a splenetic view that devalues whatever good there is in it.
Culture (n.) means continuity, not a tearing up of roots through progress: without the past bequeathed to us we are without root or perspective, defenceless dupes of whatever novelties the future brings.
Culture (n.) is essentially continuity and the conservation of the past; the neurasthenic craving for novelty is a sickness that yields only anti-culture and ends in barbarism.