Man, A Hybrid Of Plant And Ghost.

It Is Nothing But Fanaticism And Beautiful Soulism To Expect Very Much (or Even, Much Only) From Humanity When It Has Forgotten How To Wage War.

Few Are Made For Independence, It Is The Privilege Of The Strong.

[heraclitus' Language] Dispenses With Lightness And Artificial Decoration, Foremost Out Of Disgust For Humanity And Out Of [his Own] Defiant Feeling.

The Genius-in Work And In Deed-is Necessarily A Squanderer: The Fact That He Spends Himself Constitutes His Greatness.

Many A Peacock Hides His Peacock Tail From All Eyes--and Calls It His Pride.