Walter Benjamin writes that there is an angel who remembers the whole of history. His face is turned towards the past. He would like to pause and piece together everything that was smashed in the ongoing catastrophe of human affairs but there is a wind blowing from paradise and it is so strong that it gets caught up in his wings and he can no longer close them.
The storm (which we call progress) drives him helplessly into the future, to which his back is turned, while the pile of rubble grows higher and higher.
--- From The Vagabond's Voyage