Regarding Life, The Wisest Men Of All

Read From A Distant Star, The Majuscule Script Of Our Earthly Existence Would Perhaps Lead To The Conclusion That The Earth Was The Distinctively Ascetic Planet, A Nook Of Disgruntled, Arrogant Creatures Filled With A Profound Disgust With Themselves, At The Earth, At All Life, Who Inflict As Much Pain On Themselves As They Possibly Can Out Of Pleasure In Inflicting Pain Which Is Probably Their Only Pleasure.

Everyone Nowadays Lives Through Too Much And Thinks Through Too Little: They Have A Ravenous Appetite And Colic At The Same Time So That They Keep Getting Thinner And Thinner No Matter How Much They Eat.--whoever Says Nowadays, "i Have Not Experienced Anything"--is A Simpleton.

Let That Day Be Lost To Us On Which We Did Not Dance Once!

A Soul Which Knows That It Is Loved, But Does Not Itself Love, Betrays Its Sediment: Its Dregs Come Up.

Character Is Determined More By The Lack Of Certain Experiences Than By Those One Has Had.