Silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.

Alas, where is there still a sea in which one could drown: thus our lament resounds – across shallow swamps.

Rejoicing in our joy, not suffering over our suffering, makes someone a friend.

Underneath the reality in which we live and have our being, another altogether different reality lies concealed.

A thing can only live through a pious illusion.

To think historically is almost the same thing now as if in all ages history had been made according to theory.

There is a great ladder of religious cruelty, and, of its many rungs, three are the most important. People used to make human sacrifices to their god, perhaps even sacrificing those they loved the best ... Then, during the moral epoch of humanity, people sacrificed the strongest instincts they had, their 'nature,' to their god... Finally: what was left to be sacrificed? ... Didn't people have to sacrifice God himself and worship rocks, stupidity, gravity, fate, or nothingness out of sheer cruelty to themselves?