Wit Is The Epitaph Of An Emotion.

Those Who Are Devoid Of Purpose Will Make The Void Their Purpose.

We Fear Our Neighbor's Hostile Mood Because We Are Afraid That This Mood Will Lead Him To Penetrate Our Secrets.

Some Die Too Young, Some Die Too Old; The Precept Sounds Strange, But Die At The Right Age.

The Really Historical Performance Would Talk To Ghosts.

My Formula For Greatness In A Human Being Is Amor Fati: That One Wants Nothing To Be Different, Not Forward, Not Backward, Not In All Eternity. Not Merely Bear What Is Necessary, Still Less Conceal It—all Idealism Is Mendaciousness In The Face Of What Is Necessary—but Love It