For out of fear and need each religion is born, creeping into existence on the byways or reason.

The pure soul is a pure lie.

The gilded sheath of pity sometimes covers the dagger of envy.

And like a wind shall I one day blow amongst them and with my spirit take away their soul's breath: thus my future wills it.

The snake that cannot shed its skin perishes.

So far there has been no philosopher in whose hands philosophy has not grown into an apology for knowledge; on this point, at least, every one is an optimist, that the greatest usefulness must be ascribed to knowledge. They are all tyrannized over by logic, and this is optimism in its essence.

That lies should be necessary to life is part and parcel of the terrible and questionable character of existence.