"what Is Good?" Ye Ask. To Be

A Woman's Pity, Which Is Talkative, Carries The Sick Person's Bed To The Public Marketplace.

We Possess Art Lest We Perish Of The Truth.

The Best Of All Things Is Something Entirely Outside Your Grasp: Not To Be Born, Not To Be, To Be Nothing. But The Second-best Thing For You - Is To Die Soon.

All Truly Great Thoughts Are Conceived By Walking.

I Love Something: And Scarcely Do I Love It Completely When The Tyrant In Me Says: "i Want That In Sacrifice." This Cruelty Is In My Entrails. Behold! I Am Evil.