Weariness that wants to reach the ultimate with one leap, with one fatal leap, a poor ignorant weariness that does not want to want any more: this created all gods and afterworlds.

To see others suffer does one good, to make others suffer even more: this is a hard saying but an ancient, mighty, human, all-too-human principle [....] Without cruelty there is no festival.

In the end one only experiences oneself.

Few are made for independence, it is the privilege of the strong.

A woman's pity, which is talkative, carries the sick person's bed to the public marketplace.

...throw roses into the abyss and say: 'here is my thanks to the monster who didn't succeed in swallowing me alive.

It is some fundamental certainty which a noble soul has about itself, something which is not to be sought, is not to be found, and perhaps, also, is not to be lost. The noble soul has reverence for itself.