I Was At Home Then In The

Forgetfulness, The Unhistorical, Is ... The Atmosphere, In Which Alone Life Can Come Into Being. In Order To Understand It, Let Us Imagine A Youth Who Is Seized With A Passion For A Woman, Or A Man Who Is Swayed By A Passion For His Work. In Both Cases What Lies Behind Them Has Ceased To Exist And Yet This State (the Most Unhistorical That Can Be Imagined) Is That In Which Every Action, Every Great Deed Is Conceived And Accomplished.

Why You Exist, Says Nietzsche With Søren Kierkegaard, Nobody In The World Can Tell You In Advance; But Since You Do Exist, Try To Give Your Existence A Meaning By Setting Up For Yourself As Lofty And Noble A Goal As You Can.

The Crowd Will Follow A Leader Who Marches Twenty Paces Ahead Of Them, But If He Is A Thousand Paces Ahead Of Them, They Will Neither See Nor Follow Him.

The Loathing Of Mankind Is A Force That Surprises And Overwhelms One, Fed By Hundreds Of Springs Concealed His Subconsciousness. One Only Detects Its Presence After Having Long Entertained It Unawares.

The Historian Is Looked Upon As Objective When He Measures The Past By The Popular Opinions Of His Own Time, As Subjective When He Does Not Take These Opinions For Models. That Man Is Thought Best Fitted To Depict A Period Of The Past, Who Is Not In The Least Affected By That Period. But Only He Who Has A Share In Building Up The Future Can Grasp What The Past Has Been, And Only When Transformed Into A Work Of Art Can History Arouse Or Even Sustain Instincts.