I could only believe in a God who could dance... And now a God dances through me.

Whatever we have words for, that we have already got beyond.

You lovers of knowledge! So what have you done out of your love of knowledge up to now? Have you already stolen and murdered so as to know how a thief and a murderer feels?

Whoever commits to paper what he suffers becomes a melancholy author: but he becomes a serious author when he tells us what he suffered and why he now reposes in joy.

Only he who is man enough will release the woman in woman.

There are two types of genius; one which above all begets and wants to beget, and another which prefers being fertilized and giving birth.

Body am I entirely, and nothing else; and soul is only a word for something about the body.