I Love Him Who Scattereth Golden Words

[heraclitus Had] The Highest Form Of Pride [stemming] From A Certainty Of Belief In The Truth As Grasped By Himself Alone. He Brings This Form, By Its Excessive Development, Into A Sublime Pathos By Involuntary Identification Of Himself With His Truth.

We Do Not By Any Means Think It Desirable That The Kingdom Of Righteousness And Peace Should Be Established On Earth (because Under Any Circumstances It Would Be The Kingdom Of The Profoundest Mediocrity And Chinaism); We Rejoice In All Men, Who Like Ourselves Love Danger, War And Adventure, Who Do Not Make Compromises, Nor Let Themselves Be Captured, Conciliated And Stunted; We Count Ourselves Among The Conquerors; We Ponder Over The Need Of A New Order Of Things, Even Of A New Slavery For Every Strengthening And Elevation Of The Type "man" Also Involves A New Form Of Slavery.

What Doesn't Kill You Make You Stronger.

Art Furnishes Us With Eyes And Hands And Above All The Good Conscience To Be Able To Turn Ourselves Into Such A Phenomenon.

A Refined Soul Is Distressed To Know That Someone Owes It Thanks; A Crude Soul, To Know That It Owes Someone Thanks.