But, you know, I feel more fellowship with the defeated than with saints. Heroism and sanctity don't really appeal to me, I imagine. What interests me is being a man.

After another moment's silence she mumbled that I was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day I might disgust her for the very same reason.

Whereas the Greeks gave to will the boundaries of reason, we have come to put the will's impulse in the very center of reason, which has, as a result, become deadly.

There will be no lasting peace either in the heart of individuals or in social customs until death is outlawed.

It is easier to kill what we do not know.

One dies if necessary, one breaks rather than bending. But I bend, because I continue to love myself.

Art does not tolerate reason.