All idealism is falsehood in the face of necessity.

Where is the lightning to lick you with its tongue? Where is the madness with which you should be cleansed? Behold, I show you the Superman. He is this lightning, he is this madness.

Yet for all that, there is nothing in me of a founder of a religion--religions are affairs of the rabble; I find it necessary to wash my hands after I have come into contact with religious people.

A life without music is an error.

I cannot believe in a God who wants to be praised all the time.

To go on vegetating in cowardly dependence on physicians and machinations, after the meaning of life, the right to life, has been lost, that ought to prompt a profound contempt in society.

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