What Was Silent In The Father Speaks

What I Understand By "philosopher": A Terrible Explosive In The Presence Of Which Everything Is In Danger.

At Times, Our Strengths Propel Us So Far Forward We Can No Longer Endure Our Weaknesses And Perish From Them.

God Is Dead. God Remains Dead. And We Have Killed Him. How Shall We Comfort Ourselves, The Murderers Of All Murderers? What Was Holiest And Mightiest Of All That The World Has Yet Owned Has Bled To Death Under Our Knives: Who Will Wipe This Blood Off Us? What Water Is There For Us To Clean Ourselves? What Festivals Of Atonement, What Sacred Games Shall We Have To Invent? Is Not The Greatness Of This Deed Too Great For Us? Must We Ourselves Not Become Gods Simply To Appear Worthy Of It?

Real Dancers Are The Ones Who Can Hear The Music In Their Soul.

For Out Of Fear And Need Each Religion Is Born, Creeping Into Existence On The Byways Or Reason.