Man Is Something That Must Be Overcome

To Be Moral, Correct, And Virtuous Is To Be Obedient To An Old Established Law And Custom.

Even The Most Beautiful Scenery Is No Longer Assured Of Our Love After We Have Lived In It For Three Months, And Some Distant Coast Attracts Our Avarice: Possessions Are Generally Diminished By Possession.

What Then Is Truth? A Movable Host Of Metaphors, Metonymies, And Anthropomorphisms: In Short, A Sum Of Human Relations Which Have Been Poetically And Rhetorically Intensified, Transferred, And Embellished, And Which, After Long Usage, Seem To A People To Be Fixed, Canonical, And Binding. Truths Are Illusions Which We Have Forgotten Are Illusions — They Are Metaphors That Have Become Worn Out And Have Been Drained Of Sensuous Force.

Whoever Thought That He Had Understood Something Of Me Had Merely Construed Something Out Of Me, After His Own Image.

Just As Soon As We Notice That Someone Has To Force Himself To Pay Attention When Dealing And Talking With Us, We Have A Valid Demonstration That He Does Not Love Us Or That He Does Not Love Us Anymore.