The Pure Soul Is A Pure Lie.

Knapsack Of The Metaphysicians.- Those Who Boast So Mightily Of The Scientificality Of Their Metaphysics Should Receive No Answer; It Is Enough To Pluck At The Bundle Which, With A Certain Degree Of Embarrassment, They Keep Concealed Behind Their Back; If One Succeeds In Opening It, The Products Of That Scientificality Come To Light, Attended By Their Blushes: A Dear Little Lord God, A Nice Little Immortality, Perhaps A Certain Quantity Of Spiritualism, And In Any Event A Whole Tangled Heap Of 'wretched Poor Sinner' And Pharisee Arrogance.

Oh Great Star! What Would Your Happiness Be If You Did Not Have Us To Shine For?

Since Copernicus, Man Seems To Have Got Himself On An Inclined Plane-now He Is Slipping Faster And Faster Away From The Center Into-what? Into Nothingness? Into A 'penetrating Sense Of His Nothingness?' ... All Science, Natural As Well As Unnatural-which Is What I Call The Self-critique Of Knowledge-has At Present The Object Of Dissuading Man From His Former Respect For Himself, As If This Had Been But A Piece Of Bizarre Conceit.

There Is A Rollicking Kindness That Looks Like Malice.

Nobody Is So Constituted As To Be Able To Live Everywhere And Anywhere; And He Who Has Great Duties To Perform, Which Lay Claim Toall His Strength, Has, In This Respect, A Very Limited Choice. The Influence Of Climate Upon The Bodily Functionsextends So Far, That A Blunder In The Choice Of Locality And Climate Is Able Not Only To Alienate A Man From His Actual Duty, But Also To Withhold It From Him Altogether, So That He Never Even Comes Face To Face With It.