He Who Knoweth The Reader, Doeth Nothing

Could Truth Perhaps Be A Woman Who Has Reasons For Not Permitting Her Reasons To Be Seen? Could Her Name Perhaps Be--to Speak Greek--baubo?... Oh, Those Greeks! They Understood How To Live: To Do That It Is Necessary To Stop Bravely At The Surface, The Fold, The Skin, To Adore The Appearance, To Believe In Forms, In Tones, In Words, In The Whole Olympus Of Appearance! Those Greeks Were Superficial--out Of Profundity!

What Does It Matter Whether I Am Shown To Be Right! I Am Right Too Much!--and He Who Laughs Best Today Will Also Laugh Last.

Christianity Has Done Its Utmost To Close The Circle And Declared Even Doubt To Be Sin. One Is Supposed To Be Cast Into Belief Without Reason, By A Miracle, And From Then On To Swim In It As In The Brightest And Least Ambiguous Of Elements: Even A Glance Towards Land, Even The Thought That One Perhaps Exists For Something Else As Well As Swimming, Even The Slightest Impulse Of Our Amphibious Nature

Priests ... These Turkey-cocks Of God.

No One Talks More Passionately About His Rights Than He Who In The Depths Of His Soul Doubts Whether He Has Any