Was Mich Nicht Zugrunde Richtet, Macht Mich

There Is Something Laughable About The Sight Of Authors Who Enjoy The Rustling Folds Of Long And Involved Sentences: They Are Trying To Cover Up Their Feet.

One Should Adpot Only Those Situations In Which One Is In No Need Of Sham Virtues, But Rather, Like The Tight-rope Dancer On His Tight Rope, In Which One Must Either Fall Or Stand--or Escape.

I Go In Solitude, So As Not To Drink Out Of Everybody's Cistern. When I Am Among The Many I Live As The Many Do, And I Do Not Think I Really Think; After A Time It Always Seems As If They Want To Banish Myself From Myself And Rob Me Of My Soul.

It Is Always Consoling To Think Of Suicide: In That Way One Gets Through Many A Bad Night.

Thus I Spoke, More And More Softly; For I Was Afraid Of My Own Thoughts And The Thoughts Behind My Thoughts.