The poverty of mind is a poverty of spirit.

I wasn’t trying to invent better and better homes, but to show her that homes didn’t matter, we could live in any home, in any city, in any country, in any century, and be happy, as if the world were just what we lived in.

Those palates who, not yet two summers younger, must have inventions to delight the taste, would now be glad of bread, and beg for it.

Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see children running on the grass!  The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running on the grass!

Written By Milan Kundera

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