Winter, a bad guest, sitteth with me at home; blue are my hands with his friendly handshaking

What I understand by "philosopher": a terrible explosive in the presence of which everything is in danger.

A woman does not want the truth; what is truth to women? From the beginning, nothing has been more alien, repugnant, and hostile to woman than the truth - her great art is the lie, her highest concern is mere appearance and beauty.

Everything about woman is a riddle, and everything about woman has a single solution: that is, pregnancy

Precisely the least, the softest, lightest, a lizard's rustling, a breath, a flash, a moment - a little makes the way of the best happiness.

When I contemplated purpose I also contemplated chance and foolishness.

Woman was God's second mistake.