Where One Despises, One Cannot Wage War.

What Saved Me Then? Nothing But Pregnancy. And Each Time After I Had Given Birth To My Work My Life Hung Suspended By A Thin Thread.

All Philosophers Make The Common Mistake Of Taking Contemporary Man As Their Starting Point And Of Trying, Through An Analysis Of Him, To[21] Reach A Conclusion. "man" Involuntarily Presents Himself To Them As An Aeterna Veritas As A Passive Element In Every Hurly-burly, As A Fixed Standard Of Things. Yet Everything Uttered By The Philosopher On The Subject Of Man Is, In The Last Resort, Nothing More Than A Piece Of Testimony Concerning Man During A Very Limited Period Of Time.

God Is A Gross Answer, An Indelicacy Against Us Thinkers- At Bottom Merely A Gross Prohibition For Us: You Shall Not Think!

In Praise There Is More Obtrusiveness Than In Blame.

Artists May Here Have A More Subtle Scent: They Know Only Too Well That It Is Precisely When They Cease To Act 'voluntarily' And Do Everything Of Necessity That Their Feeling Of Freedom, Subtlety, Fullness Of Power, Creative Placing, Disposing, Shaping Reaches Its Height - In Short, That Necessity And 'freedom Of Will' Are Then One In Them.