Back to yourself to come you pine Or fly from out your house.

The 'good man' as a symptom of exhaustion.

Seventh Solitude! Never felt! Sweet certainty nearer, Or warmer the sun's ray. —Glows not the ice of my summit yet? Silvery, light, a fish Now my vessel swims out....

The concept 'politics' then becomes elevated entirely to the sphere of spiritual warfare.

Up to the present, neither the one nor the other has been taught; but rather virtue, disinterestedness, pity, and even the negation of life. All these are values proceeding from exhausted people.

Ye still carry about with you the valuations of things which had their origin in the passions and infatuations of earlier centuries!

He would much rather play the buffoon and the monkey, and learn the arts that make life amusing.

As a matter of fact, we meet with a vast amount of thought concerning the means wherewith impassibility may be induced. To this extent, the instincts are on the right scent; for to do nothing is more useful than to do something....

The hysteric is false,—he lies from the love of lying, he is admirable in all the arts of dissimulation,—unless his morbid vanity hood-wink him.

As they will need one so badly, they will have it.

But what comes from these congregated storm-clouds? Not a single lightning flash! And here begins the new Image of man—the man according to Goethe.

But formerly it was strong, it was terrible, it was a gloomy hate throughout almost three-quarters of Wagner's life.

More subtle than Is Necessary.—Our sense of observation for how far others perceive our weaknesses is far more subtle than our sense of observation for the weaknesses of others. It follows that the first-named sense is more subtle than is necessary.

The love whose means is war, whose very essence is the mortal hatred between the sexes!

Indeed, we may promise ourselves this joy, nay summon and conjure it up as a necessary thing, so long as the development of human reason does not stand still.

The intentional air of detachment that is assumed for effect, the sober art of the superficial motive-hunter is most exasperating when the highest and rarest things are in question; and it is the vanity of the historian that drives him to this attitude of indifference.

It must be cheerful and yet profound, like an October afternoon.

The good men of every age are those who go to the roots of the old thoughts and bear fruit with them, the agriculturists of the spirit.

The Herd's Sting of Conscience.—In the longest and remotest ages of the human race there was quite a different sting of conscience from that of the present day.

Great conquerors have always given utterance to the pathetic language of virtue; they have always been surrounded by crowds of people who felt themselves, as it were, in a state of exaltation and would listen to none but the most elevated oratory.