Pitch-black winter nights live in my bones.

Of all that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his blood.

I love him who chasteneth his God, because he loveth his God: for he must succumb through the wrath of his God.

God is a too palpably clumsy answer; an answer which shows a lack of delicacy towards us thinkers-fundamentally, even a crude prohibition to us: you shall not think!

Creating-that is the great salvation from suffering, and life's alleviation. But for the creator to appear, suffering itself is needed, and much transformation.

Reason" in language - oh, what an old deceptive female she is! I am afraid we are not rid of God because we still have faith in grammar.

I could dispense with nothing when I created the superman. His seed still carries all your evil and falsehood, your lies and yourignorance.