Cows sometimes wear an expression resembling wonderment arrested on its way to becoming a question. In the eye of superior intelligence, on the other hand, lies the nil admirari spread out like the monotony of a cloudless sky.

Do you call yourself Free? It is your ruling thought that I would hear, and not that you have escaped from a yoke.

The consequences of our actions take hold of us, quite indifferent to our claim that meanwhile we have 'improved.

What then is truth? A movable host of metaphors, metonymies, and anthropomorphisms: in short, a sum of human relations which have been poetically and rhetorically intensified, transferred, and embellished, and which, after long usage, seem to a people to be fixed, canonical, and binding. Truths are illusions which we have forgotten are illusions — they are metaphors that have become worn out and have been drained of sensuous force.

The good four. Honest with ourselves and with whatever is friend to us; courageous toward the enemy; generous toward the vanquished; polite-always that is how the four cardinal virtues want us.

Truths are illlusions which we have forgotten are illusions.

Free will without fate is no more conceivable than spirit without matter, good without evil.