Energy Wasted On Negative Ends.

People Who Live In An Age Of Corruption Are Witty And Slanderous; They Know That There Are Other Kinds Of Murder Than By Dagger Or Assault; They Also Know That Whatever Is Well Said Is Believed.

We Have No Organ At All For Knowledge, For Truth: We Know (or Believe Or Imagine) Precisely As Much As May Be Useful In The Interest Of The Human Herd, The Species: And Even What Is Here Called Usefulness Is In The End Only A Belief, Something Imagined And Perhaps Precisely That Most Fatal Piece Of Stupidity By Which We Shall One Day Perish.

When A Hundred Men Stand Together, Each Of Them Loses His Mind And Gets Another One.

Improvements Are Invented Only By Those Who Can Feel That Something Is Not Good.

Out Of Damp And Gloomy Days, Out Of Solitude, Out Of Loveless Words Directed At Us, Conclusions Grow Up In Us Like Fungus: One Morning They Are There, We Know Not How, And They Gaze Upon Us, Morose And Gray. Woe To The Thinker Who Is Not The Gardener But Only The Soil Of The Plants That Grow In Him.