Could truth perhaps be a woman who has reasons for not permitting her reasons to be seen? Could her name perhaps be--to speak Greek--Baubo?... Oh, those Greeks! They understood how to live: to do that it is necessary to stop bravely at the surface, the fold, the skin, to adore the appearance, to believe in forms, in tones, in words, in the whole Olympus of appearance! Those Greeks were superficial--out of profundity!

Thou seekest disciples? Then thou seekest ciphers.

But this people has deliberately made itself stupid, for nearly a millennium: nowhere have the two great European narcotics, alcohol and Christianity, been abused more dissolutely.

The ascetic makes a necessity of virtue.

Our greatest experiences are our quietest moments.

Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.

Fathers have a lot to do to make up for having sons.