All truth is crooked, time itself is a circle

Belief in truth begins with doubting all that has hitherto been believed to be true.

What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal: what there is to love in man is that he is a going-over and a going-under.

Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him.

All mankind is divided, as it was at all times and is still, into slaves and freemen.

By losing your goal, You have lost your way.

In a certain state it is indecent to live longer.