The value of many men and books rests solely on their faculty for compelling all to seek out the most hidden and intimate things.

Sensuality often makes love grow too quickly, so that the root remains weak and is easy to pull out.

We talk about taking "pleasure in a thing": but in truth it is pleasure in ourselves, mediated by a thing.

The one seeks a midwife to deliver his thoughts, the other, someone to assist: thus a good conversation comes into being.

The woman and the genius do not work. Up to now, woman has been mankind's supreme luxury. In all those moments when we do our best, we do not work. Work is merely a means to these moments.

It takes physical courage to indulge in wickedness. The "good" are too cowardly to do it.

To live as I incline, or not to live at all: so do I wish; so wisheth also the holiest. But alas! how have I still - inclination? Have I-still a goal? A haven towards which MY sail is set?A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth WHITHER he saileth, knoweth what wind is good, and a fair wind for him.What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and flippant; and unstable will; fluttering wings; a broken backbone.This seeking for MY home: O Zarathustra, dost thou know that this seeking hath been MY home-sickening; it eateth me up.