The most spiritual men, as the strongest, find their happiness where others would find their destruction: in the labyrinth, in hardness against themselves and others, in experiments. Their joy is self-conquest: asceticism becomes in them nature, need, and instinct. Difficult tasks are a privilege to them; to play with burdens that crush others, a recreation. Knowledge-a form of asceticism. They are the most venerable kind of man: that does not preclude their being the most cheerful and the kindliest.

Verily, I do not like them, the merciful who feel blessed in their pity: they are lacking too much in shame. If I must pity, at least I do not want it known; and if I do pity, it is preferably from a distance.

Many writers are neither spirit nor wine, but rather spirits- of-wine: they can catch fire, and then they give off heat.

Inexperienced girls flatter themselves with the notion that it is in their power to make a man happy.

no one talks more passionately about his rights than he who in the depths of his soul doubts whether he has any

Robinson had a servant even better than Friday: His name was Crusoe.

Lightning and thunder need time, the light of the stars needs time, deeds need time, even after they are done, to be seen and heard.