All philosophy is a form of confession.

God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?

One must repay good and ill; but why just to the person who did us good or ill?

And if a man goes through fire for his doctrine - what does that prove? Verily, it is more if your own doctrine comes out of your own fire.

In a man devoted to knowledge, pity seems almost ridiculous, like delicate hands on a cyclops.

Man's maturity: to have regained the seriousness that he had as a child at play.

There is no more dreary or more repulsive creature than the man who has evaded his genius.