To Feel Keenly The Poetry Of A

A Man Only Understands What Is Akin To Something Already Existing In Himself.

Time And Space Are Fragments Of The Infinite For The Use Of Finite Creatures.

At The Bottom Of The Modern Man There Is Always A Great Thirst For Self-forgetfulness, Self-distraction . . . And Therefore He Turns Away From All Those Problems And Abysses Which Might Recall To Him His Own Nothingness.

Nothing Is More Characteristic Of A Man Than The Manner In Which He Behaves Toward Fools.

I Find Myself Regarding Existence As Though From Beyond The Tomb, From Another World; All Is Strange To Me; I Am, As It Were, Outside My Own Body And Individuality; I Am Depersonalized, Detached, Cut Adrift. Is This Madness?