Another Christian concept, no less crazy, has passed even more deeply into the tissue of modernity: the concept of the 'equality of souls before God.' This concept furnishes the prototype of all theories of equal rights.

The irrationality of a thing is no argument against its existence, rather a condition of it.

A soul which knows that it is loved, but does not itself love, betrays its sediment: its dregs come up.

What saved me then? Nothing but pregnancy. And each time after I had given birth to my work my life hung suspended by a thin thread.

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?

A friend should be a master at guessing and keeping still: you must not want to see everything.

We must understand how to hide in darkness in order to escape the gnat-swarms of utterly annoying admirers.