Women and egoistic artists entertain a feeling towards science that is something composed of envy and sentimentality.

Every virtue has its privilege: for example, that of contributing its own little bundle of wood to the funeral pyre of one condemned.

In laughter all that is evil comes together, but is pronounced holy and absolved by its own bliss.

It was the sick and decaying who despised the body and earth and invented the heavenly realm and the redemptive drops of blood: but they took even these sweet and gloomy poisons from body and earth. They wanted to escape their own misery, and the stars were too far for them.

Every step forward is made at the cost of mental and physical pain to someone.

Nothing ever succeeds which exuberant spirits have not helped to produce.

Then is what you see through this window onto the world so lovely that you have no desire whatsoever to look out through any other window, and that you even make an attempt to prevent others from doing so?