No Journey Is Too Great, When One

An Important Species Of Pleasure, And Therewith The Source Of Morality, Arises Out Of Habit.

To Live As I Incline, Or Not To Live At All: So Do I Wish; So Wisheth Also The Holiest. But Alas! How Have I Still - Inclination? Have I-still A Goal? A Haven Towards Which My Sail Is Set?a Good Wind? Ah, He Only Who Knoweth Whither He Saileth, Knoweth What Wind Is Good, And A Fair Wind For Him.what Still Remaineth To Me? A Heart Weary And Flippant; And Unstable Will; Fluttering Wings; A Broken Backbone.this Seeking For My Home: O Zarathustra, Dost Thou Know That This Seeking Hath Been My Home-sickening; It Eateth Me Up.

A Noble Soul Is Not The One That Can Manage The Highest Flights But The One That Rises Very Little And Falls Very Little But Always Dwells In A Free, Resplendent Atmosphere And Altitude.

Even Cohabitation Has Been Corrupted - By Marriage.

One Cannot Read The New Testament Without Acquired Admiration For Whatever It Abuses Not To Speak Of The "wisdom Of This World," Which An Impudent Wind Bag Tries To Dispose Of "by The Foolishness Of Preaching."