The mother of excess is not joy but joylessness.
One should only question gods where none but gods can reply.
On the tree, Future, we build our nest; and in our solitude eagles shall bring us nourishment in their beaks!
[Heraclitus speaks as if] in entrancement ... but [also] truthfully.
"This - is now my way - where is yours"? Thus did I answer those who asked me "the way". For the way - it does not exist!
Art raises its head where creeds relax.