Science Rushes Headlong, Without Selectivity, Without "taste,"

Deception, Flattering, Lying, Deluding, Talking Behind The Back, Putting Up A False Front, Living In Borrowed Splendor, Wearing A Mask, Hiding Behind Convention, Playing A Role For Others And For Oneself -- In Short, A Continuous Fluttering Around The Solitary Flame Of Vanity -- Is So Much The Rule And The Law Among Men That There Is Almost Nothing Which Is Less Comprehensible Than How An Honest And Pure Drive For Truth Could Have Arisen Among Them.

More And More It Seems To Me That The Philosopher, Being Of Necessity A Man Of Tomorrow And The Day After Tomorrow, Has Always Found Himself, And Had To Find Himself, In Contradiction To His Today: His Enemy Was Ever The Ideal Of Today. So Far All These Extraordinary Furtherers Of Men Whom One Calls Philosophers, Though They Themselves Have Rarely Felt Like Friends Of Wisdom But Rather Like Disagreeable Fools And Dangerous Question Marks, Have Found Their Task, Their Hard, Unwanted, Inescapable Task, But Eventually Also The Greatness Of Their Task, In Being The Bad Conscience Of Their Time.

Reason Is The Cause Of Our Falsification Of The Evidence Of The Senses. In So Far As The Senses Show Becoming, Passing Away, Change, They Do Not Lie.

At Times, Our Strengths Propel Us So Far Forward We Can No Longer Endure Our Weaknesses And Perish From Them.

Every Past Is Worth Condemning.