Every profound spirit needs a mask: even more, around every profound spirit a mask is continually growing.

one does not only wish to be understood when one writes; one wishes just as surely not to be understood.

Man is very well defended against himself... The actual fortress is inaccessible, even invisible to him, unless his friends and enemies play the traitor and conduct him in by a secret path.

A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything.

Immature is the love of the youth, and immature his hatred of man and earth. His mind and the wings of his spirit are still tied down and heavy.

And he who must be a creator in good and evil: verily, he must be an annihilator first and demolish values.

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