"State," I call it, where they all drink poison, the good and the wicked; "state," where they all lose themselves, the good and the wicked; "state," where they all call their slow suicide-"life."

What destroys a man more quickly than to work, think and feel without inner necessity, without any deep personal desire, without pleasure - as a mere automaton of duty?

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

As a result, nature is something entirely different from what comes to mind when we invoke its name.

The best belongs to me and mine; and if we are not given it, we take it: the best food, the purest sky, the most robust thoughts, the fairest women!

God is dead, God remains dead, and we have killed him.

What do you believe in?--In this, that the weights of all things must be determined anew.