Sleep is no mean art.

And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.

At present I am light, now I fly, now I see myself below me, now a god dances through me.

What we experience in dreams - assuming that we experience it often - belongs in the end just as much to the over-all economy of our soul as anything experienced "actually": we are richer or poorer on account of it.

What if God were not exactly truth, and if this could be proved? And if he were instead the vanity, the desire for power, the ambitions, the fear, and the enraptured and terrified folly of mankind?

The pure soul is a pure lie.

Sometimes we owe a friend to the lucky circumstance that we give him no cause for envy.