Many a one cannot loosen his own fetters, but is nevertheless his friend's emancipator.

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?

As a result, nature is something entirely different from what comes to mind when we invoke its name.

Life is an instinct for growth, for survival, for the accumulation of forces, for power.

Jesus died too soon. If he had lived to my age he would have repudiated his doctrine.

The domestication (the culture) of man does not go deep--where it does go deep it at once becomes degeneration (type: the Christian). The 'savage' (or, in moral terms, the evil man) is a return to nature--and in a certain sense his recovery, his cure from 'culture'.

There is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophy.