The Noble Soul Reveres Itself

Without Music, Life Would Be An Error. The German Imagines Even God Singing Songs

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

Man... Cannot Learn To Forget, But Hangs On The Past: However Far Or Fast He Runs, That Chain Runs With Him.

Illness Is A Clumsy Attempt To Arrive At Health: We Must Come To Nature's Aid With Intellect.

Without Art We Would Be Nothing But Foreground And Live Entirely In The Spell Of That Perspective Which Makes What Is Closest At Hand And Most Vulgar Appear As If It Were Vast, And Reality Itself.