Did you ever say yes to a pleasure? oh my friends, then you also said yes to all pain. all things are linked, entwined, in love with one another.
In solitude the lonely man is eaten up by himself, among crowds by the many.
The earth has a skin and that skin has diseases; one of its diseases is called man.
Art raises its head where creeds relax. Friedrich Nietz
What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power, the will to power, power itself in man.
In Bach there is still too much crude Christianity, crude Germanism, crude scholasticism; he stands on the threshold of European (modern) music, but he looks back from there to the Middle Ages.
Though the favourites of the Gods die young, they also live eternally in the company of Gods
A man far oftener appears to have a decided character from persistently following his temperament than from persistently following his principles.
In this moment, I am euphoric. Not because of any phony god's blessing. But because, I am enlightened by my intelligence.
Even the most beautiful scenery is no longer assured of our love after we have lived in it for three months, and some distant coast attracts our avarice: possessions are generally diminished by possession.
My conception of freedom. â€” The value of a thing sometimes does not lie in that which one attains by it, but in what one pays for it â€” what it costs us. Liberal institutions cease to be liberal as soon as they are attained: later on, there are no worse and no more thorough injurers of freedom th
A man who whinnies with noisy laughter, surpasses all the animals in vulgarity.
Whoever thought that he had understood something of me had merely construed something out of me, after his own image.
The view that honesty is something, and even a virtue, belongs, it is true, to those private opinions which are forbidden in this age of public opinions.
All prejudices may be traced back to the intestines. A sedentary life is the real sin against the Holy Ghost.
whatever is profound loves masks; what is most profound even hates image and parable.
Let them like the Tibetans, chew the cud of their "om mane padme hum" innumerable times, or, as in Benares, count the name of the God Ram-Ram-Ram (etc. with or without charm) on their fingers; or honour Vishnu with his thousand names of invocation, Allah with his ninety-nine; or they may make use of
Without cruelty there is no festival: thus the longest and most ancient part of human history teaches and in punishment there is so much that is festive!
With deep men, as with deep wells, it takes a long time for anything that falls into them to hit bottom. Onlookers, who almost never wait long enough, readily suppose that such men are callous and unresponsive--or even boring.
The man who meets with a failure attributes this failure rather to the ill will of another than to fate.
Truths are illlusions which we have forgotten are illusions.
Some men are born posthumously.
Young people love what is interesting and odd, no matter how true or false it is. More mature minds love what is interesting and odd about truth. Fully mature intellects, finally, love truth, even when it appears plain and simple, boring to the ordinary person; for they have noticed that truth tends
Only great pain is, as the teacher of great suspicion, the ultimate liberator of the spirit...I doubt whether such pain improves us-but I do know it deepens us.
God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves
Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.
Not necessity, not desire - no, the love of power is the demon of men. Let them have everything - health, food, a place to live, entertainment - they are and remain unhappy and low-spirited: for the demon waits and waits and will be satisfied.
I feel all those human beings to be pernicious who can no longer oppose what they love: they thereby ruin the best things and people.
In music the passions enjoy themselves.
Ah, there are so many things betwixt heaven and earth of which only the poets have dreamed!