What do you believe in?--In this, that the weights of all things must be determined anew.

Yet tell me, my brothers: if a goal for humanity is still lacking, is there not still lacking--humanity itself?

War has always been the grand sagacity of every spirit which has grown too inward and too profound; its curative power lies even in the wounds one receives.

It says nothing against the ripeness of a spirit that it has a few worms.

He who denies himself much in great matters will readily indulge himself in small things.

But like infection is the petty thought: it creeps and hides, and wants to be nowhere--until the whole body is decayed and withered by the petty infection... Thus spoke Zarathustra.

Faith actually moves no mountains, but instead raises them up where there were none before.