The Real World Is Much Smaller Than

Desire Is Happiness: Satisfaction As Happiness Is Merely The Ultimate Moment Of Desire. To Be Wish And Wish Alone Is Happiness, And A New Wish Over And Over Again.

We Find Nothing Easier Than Being Wise, Patient, Superior. We Drip With The Oil Of Forbearance And Sympathy, We Are Absurdly Just, We Forgive Everything. For That Very Reason We Ought To Discipline Ourselves A Little; For That Very Reason We Ought To Cultivate A Little Emotion, A Little Emotional Vice, From Time To Time. It May Be Hard For Us; And Among Ourselves We May Perhaps Laugh At The Appearance We Thus Present. But What Of That! We No Longer Have Any Other Mode Of Self-overcoming Available To Us: This Is Our Asceticism, Our Penance.

When Death Brings At Last The Desired Forgetfulness, It Abolishes Life And Being Together, And Sets The Seal On The Knowledge That "being" Is Merely A Continual "has Been," A Thing That Lives By Denying And Destroying And Contradicting Itself.

Companions The Creator Seeks, Not Corpses, Not Herds And Believers. Fellow Creators The Creator Seeks -- Those Who Write New Values On New Tablets. Companions The Creator Seeks, And Fellow Harvesters; For Everything About Him Is Ripe For The Harvest.

Mastery Has Been Achieved When One Neither Makes A Mistake Nor Hesitates In The Performance.