Wit Is The Epitaph Of An Emotion.

In This State One Enriches Everything Out Of One's Own Fullness: Whatever One Sees, Whatever Wills Is Seen Swelled, Taut, Strong, Overloaded With Strength. A Man In This State Transforms Things Until They Mirror His Power—until They Are Reflections Of His Perfection. This Having To Transform Into Perfection Is—art.

No Shepherd And One Herd! Everybody Wants The Same, Everybody Is The Same: Whoever Feels Different Goes Voluntarily Into A Madhouse.

Mastery.- We Have Reached Mastery When We Neither Mistake Nor Hesitate In The Achievement.

What, Then Is Truth?... Truths Are Illusions About Which One Has Forgotten That This Is What They Are.

A Book Full Of Brilliance Imparts Some Of It Even To Its Opponents.