Inexperienced girls flatter themselves with the notion that it is in their power to make a man happy.

To go on vegetating in cowardly dependence on physicians and machinations, after the meaning of life, the right to life, has been lost, that ought to prompt a profound contempt in society.

God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?

Many are stubborn in pursuit of the path they have chosen, few in pursuit of the goal.

Smooth iceis paradisefor those who dance with expertise.

As a human being Plato mingles regal, exclusive, and self-contained features with melancholy compassion.

Without music, life would be a mistake... I would only believe in a God who knew how to dance.