It is the powerful who know how to honour, it is their art, their domain for invention.

Or shall I go out as a light does, not first blown out by the wind, but grown tired and weary of itself - a burnt out light? Or finally, shall I blow myself out, so as not to burn out?

Give me today, for once, the worst throw of your dice, destiny. Today I transmute everything into gold.

The moral earth, too, is round! The moral earth, too, has its antipodes! The antipodes, too, have their right to exist! There is still another world to be discovered--and more than one! Set sail, you philosophers!

Through searching out origins, one becomes a crab. The historian looks backwards, and finally he also believes backwards.

The devotion of the greatest is to encounter risk and danger, and play dice for death.

Around the hero everything turns into a tragedy, around the demigod, a satyr-play, and around God--what? perhaps a "world"?