If we have our own why of life, we shall get along with almost any how. Man does not strive for pleasure; only the Englishman does.

The higher its type, the more rarely a thing succeeds.

All sciences are now under the obligation to prepare the ground for the future task of the philosopher, which is to solve the problem of value, to determine the true hierarchy of values.

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.

I love something: and scarcely do I love it completely when the tyrant in me says: "I want that in sacrifice." This cruelty is in my entrails. Behold! I am evil.

It is the evening that questions thus from within me.

Those who create are hard of heart.