In those days it was possible for a Greek to flee from an over-abundant reality as though it were but the tricky scheming off the imagination-and to flee, not like Plato into the land of eternal ideas, into the workshop off the world-creator, feasting one's eyes on the unblemished unbreakable archet
It is the most sensual men who need to flee women and torment their bodies. Friedrich Nietz
Rational thought is interpretation according to a scheme which we cannot escape.
What is good? All that heightens the feeling of power, the will to power, power itself in man. Friedrich Nietzsch
The pure soul is a pure lie.
The spirit of the poet craves spectators... even if only buffaloes.
Admiration for a quality or an art can be so strong that it deters us from striving to possess it.
Why does man not see things? He is himself standing in the way: he conceals things.
Whenever I climb I am followed by a dog called 'Ego'.
Men submit from habit to everything that seeks power.
What, if some day or night a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: 'This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more' ... Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who sp
The man of the future who will redeem us not only from the hitherto reigning ideal but also from that which was bound to grow out of it, the great nausea, the will to nothingness, nihilism; this bell stroke of noon and of the great decision that liberates the will again and restores its goal to the
Nothing is beautiful, only man: on this piece of naivete rests all aesthetics, it is the first truth of aesthetics. Let us immediately add its second: nothing is ugly but degenerate man - the domain of aesthetic judgment is therewith defined.
I have learned to walk: since then I have run. I have learned to fly: since then I do not have to be pushed in order to move. Now I am nimble, now I fly, now I see myself under myself, now a god dances within me.
At times one remains faithful to a cause only because its opponents do not cease to be insipid.
Behind a remarkable scholar we not infrequently find an average human being, and behind an average artist we often find a very remarkable human being.
Man is something that shall be overcome.... Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman -- a rope over an abyss... What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end.
The command 'become hard! ', the deep conviction that all creators are hard, is the really distinctive sign of a Dionysian nature.
He turns all of his injuries into strengths, that which does not kill him makes him stronger, he is superman.
When a scholar of the old culture vows no longer to have anything to do with men who believe in progress, he is right. For the old culture has its greatness and goodness behind it, and an historical education forces one to admit that it can never again be fresh.
On all the walls, wherever walls exist, I will inscribe this eternal indictment of Christianity--I have letters to make even blindmen see.... I call Christianity the single great curse, the single great innermost depravity, the single great instinct of revenge, for which no means is poisonous, secre
Yet tell me, my brothers: if a goal for humanity is still lacking, is there not still lacking--humanity itself?
He who rejoices even at the stake triumphs not over pain but over the absence of pain where he had anticipated feeling it. A parable.
I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.
Who is better, they who promote truth over happiness, or happiness over truth?
What else is love but understanding and rejoicing in the fact that another person lives acts and experiences otherwise than we do?
Seducing one's neighbor to a good opinion and then afterwards believing devoutly in this neighbor's opinion--who can match women in this clever ploy?
What the philosopher is seeking is not truth, but rather the metamorphosis of the world into man.
A vocation is the backbone of life.
Tragedy is dead! Poetry itself died with it! Away, away with you, puny, stunted imitators! Away with you to Hades, and eat your fill of the old masters' crumbs!