He divines remedies against injuries; he knows how to turn serious accidents to his own advantage; whatever does not kill him makes him stronger

He who has attained the freedom of reason to any extent cannot, for a long time, regard himself otherwise than as a wanderer on the face of the earth - and not even as a traveler towards a final goal, for there is no such thing. But he certainly wants to observe and keep his eyes open to whatever actually happens in the world; therefore he cannot attach his heart too firmly to anything individual; he must have in himself something wandering that takes pleasure in change and transitoriness.

The object of convalescence ought to be to turn our attention to life: at other times, simply to our tasks!

On the rare occasions when our dreams succeed and achieve perfection - most dreams are bungled - the are symbolic chains of scene and images in place of a narrative poetic language; they circumscribe our experiences or expectations or situations with such poetic boldness and decisiveness that in the morning we are always amazed when we remember our dreams.

Every living body continuously eliminates feces, it rejects what is not serviceable to the assimilating organism: what man despises, what arouses his disgust, what he calls evil, are excrements.

Even truthfulness is but one means to knowledge, a ladder--but not the ladder.

Memory says, 'I did that.' Pride replies, 'I could not have done that.' Eventually, memory yields.