There Is A Certain Right By Which

Great Men's Errors Are To Be Venerated As More Fruitful Than Little Men's Truths.

Have You Heard Of That Madman Who Lit A Lantern In The Bright Morning Hours, Ran To The Market Place, And Cried Incessantly, I Seek God! I Seek God! As Many Of Those Who Do Not Believe In God Were Standing Around Just Then, He Provoked Much Laughter... Whither Is God, He Cried. I Shall Tell You. We Have Killed Him - You And I. All Of Us Are Murderers.... God Is Dead. God Remains Dead. And We Have Killed Him.

In Bach There Is Still Too Much Crude Christianity, Crude Germanism, Crude Scholasticism; He Stands On The Threshold Of European (modern) Music, But He Looks Back From There To The Middle Ages.

Above All, There Is No Exception To This Rule: That The Idea Of Political Superiority Always Resolves Itself Into The Idea Of Psychological Superiority.

Inaction, Letting Be, Neither Creating Nor Destroying--that Is My Evil. And Also The Knower As One Without Desire.