The beast in us must be[78] wheedled: ethic is necessary, that we may not be torn to pieces.

It is neither the best nor the worst things in a book that defy translation.

In loneliness, the lonely one eats himself; in a crowd, the many eat him. Now choose.

In short, then, the religious cult is based upon the representations of sorcery between man and man, and the sorcerer is older than the priest.

No artist tolerates reality.

Whoever thought that he had understood something of me had merely construed something out of me, after his own image.

Winter, a bad guest, sitteth with me at home; blue are my hands with his friendly handshaking