Hermann Broch (German: [bʀɔχ]; November 1, 1886 – May 30, 1951) was a 20th-century Austrian writer, considered one of the major Modernists.
The world has always gone through periods of madness so as to advance a bit on the road to reason.
Kitsch is certainly not "bad art," it forms its own closed system.
The essence of kitsch is the confusion of ethical and esthetic categories; kitsch wants to produce not the "good" but the "beautiful. "
Were one merely to seek information, one should inquire of the man who hates, but if one wishes to know what truly is, one better ask the one who loves
Kitsch generates pseudonovelty with no new insight into reality, or else does not concern itself at all with the new and produces its effects with more or less academic eclecticism.
One who hates is a man holding a magnifying-glass, and when he hates someone, he knows precisely that person's surface, from the soles of his feet all the way up to each hair on the hated head
While love ceaselessly strives toward that which lies at the hiddenmost center, hatred only perceives the topmost surface. . .
Although every man believes that his decisions and resolutions involve the most multifarious factors, in reality they are mere oscillation between flight and longing.
What's important is promising something to the people, not actually keeping those promises. The people have always lived on hope alone.
The goddess of beauty is the goddess Kitsch.
A kitsch novel describes the world not as it really is, but as it is hoped and feared to be.
Romanticism is the mother of kitsch and that there are moments when the child becomes so like its mother that one cannot differentiate between them
Are we, then, insane because we have not gone mad?