I love him whose soul is deep even in the wounding

He who climbeth on the highest mountains, laugheth at all tragic plays and tragic realities.

Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman — a rope over an abyss.

For the purpose of knowledge we must know how to make use of the inward current which draws us towards a thing, and also of the current which after a time draws us away from it.

He who is not a bird should not build his nest over abysses.

THE SLOW ARROW OF BEAUTY. The noblest kind of beauty is that which does not transport us suddenly, which does not make stormy and intoxicating impressions such a kind easily arouses disgust but that which slowly filters into our minds.

The public easily confuses him who fishes in troubled waters with him who draws up water from the depths.