Man is more sensitive to the contempt of others than to self-contempt.

A lack of the historical sense is the hereditary fault of all philosophers.

A woman's pity, which is talkative, carries the sick person's bed to the public marketplace.

Loneliness is one thing, solitude another.

And you tell me, friends, that there is no disputing taste and tasting? But all life is a dispute over taste and tasting!

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?

You never exist quite so much as when you are not thinking