Living substance conquers the frenzy of destruction only in the ecstasy of procreation.
Walter BenjaminRead
Not to find one's way in a city may well be uninteresting and banal. It requires ignorance - nothing more. But to lose oneself in a city - as one loses oneself in a forest - that calls for a quite different schooling. Then, signboard and street names, passers-by, roofs, kiosks, or bars must speak to the wanderer like a cracking twig under his feet in the forest.
Interpretation
Losing oneself in a city's chaos can be more enriching than merely navigating through it.
Walter Benjamin emphasizes that the experience of getting lost in a city, much like in a forest, requires a deeper understanding and connection to one's surroundings. It suggests that true exploration and discovery come from immersion and attentiveness, rather than just a surface-level comprehension of directions and landmarks.
In practice
In a speech about traveling, one could use this quote to highlight the beauty of exploring unknown places.
Living substance conquers the frenzy of destruction only in the ecstasy of procreation.
The illiterate of the future will not be the man who cannot read the alphabet, but the one who cannot take a photograph.
If mythic violence is lawmaking, divine violence is law-destroying; if the former sets boundaries, the latter boundlessly destroys them; if mythic violence brings at once guilt and retribution, divine power only expiates; if the former threatens, the latter strikes; if the former is bloody, the latter is lethal without spilling blood
Writers are really people who write books not because they are poor, but because they are dissatisfied with the books which they could buy but do not like.
Nothing is poorer than a truth expressed as it was thought. Committed to writing in such cases, it is not even a bad photograph. Truth wants to be startled abruptly, at one stroke, from her self-immersion, whether by uproar, music or cries for help.
I am unpacking my library. Yes I am. The books are not yet on the shelves, not yet touched by the mild boredom of order.
History is the fruit of power, but power itself is never so transparent that its analysis becomes superfluous. The ultimate mark of power may be its invisibility; the ultimate challenge, the exposition of its roots.
Man is so intelligent that he feels impelled to invent theories to account for what happens in the world. Unfortunately, he is not quite intelligent enough, in most cases, to find correct explanations. So that when he acts on his theories, he behaves very often like a lunatic.
Are you acquainted with the mood of mind in which, if you were seated alone, and the cat licking its kitten on the rug before you, you would watch the operation so intently that puss's neglect of one ear would put you seriously out of temper?
They wonder much to hear that gold, which in itself is so useless a thing, should be everywhere so much esteemed, that even men for whom it was made, and by whom it has its value, should yet be thought of less value than it is.
Freedom is just another word: It seems to get truer the older I get.
It is not that the child lives in a world of imagination, but that the child within us survives and starts into life only at rare moments of recollection, which makes us believe, and it is not true, that, as children, we were imaginative?
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