If you cut a thing up, of course it will smell. Hence, nothing raises such an infernal stink at last, as human psychology.

The refined punishments of the spiritual mode are usually much more indecent and dangerous than a good smack.

I can't bear art that you can walk round and admire. A book should be either a bandit or a rebel or a man in the crowd.

Don't be sucked in by the su-superior, don't swallow the culture bait, don't drink, don't drink and get beerier and beerier, do learn to discriminate.

Love is never a fulfillment. Life is never a thing of continuous bliss. There is no paradise. Fight and laugh and feel bitter and feel bliss: and fight again. Fight, fight. That is life.

This is what I believe: That I am I. That my soul is a dark forest. That my known self will never be more than a little clearing in the forest. That gods, strange gods, come forth from the forest into the clearing of my known self, and then go back. That I must have the courage to let them come and go. That I will never let mankind put anything over me, but that I will try always to recognize and submit to the gods in me and the gods in other men and women. There is my creed.

Necessary, forever necessary, to burn out false shames and smelt the heaviest ore of the body into purity.