In the end one only experiences oneself.

Verily, I do not like them, the merciful who feel blessed in their pity: they are lacking too much in shame. If I must pity, at least I do not want it known; and if I do pity, it is preferably from a distance.

The same passions in man and woman nonetheless differ in tempo; hence man and woman do not cease misunderstanding one another.

Each word of Heraclitus expresses the pride and the majesty of truth, but of truth grasped in intuitions rather than attained by the rope ladder of logic.

The thought is merely a sign, as the word is merely a sign for the thought.

The poet presents his thoughts festively, on the carriage of rhythm: usually because they could not walk.

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!