On The Heights It Is Warmer Than

The Poet Presents His Thoughts Festively, On The Carriage Of Rhythm: Usually Because They Could Not Walk.

Shackled Heart, Free Spirit.--whoever Binds His Heart Tightly And Imprisons It May Indulge His Spirit In Many Liberties: I Have Already Said That Once. But No One Believes Me Unless He Already Knows.

In This State One Enriches Everything Out Of One's Own Fullness: Whatever One Sees, Whatever Wills Is Seen Swelled, Taut, Strong, Overloaded With Strength. A Man In This State Transforms Things Until They Mirror His Power—until They Are Reflections Of His Perfection. This Having To Transform Into Perfection Is—art.

Nothing In Life Possesses Value Except The Degree Of Power--assuming That Life Itself Is The Will To Power.

He Who Bears Injustice Alone Is Terrible To Behold.