In heaven, all the interesting people are missing.

One never dives into the water to save a drowning man more eagerly than when there are others present who dare not take the risk.

All credibility, all good conscience, all evidence of truth come only from the senses.

What then is truth? A movable host of metaphors, metonymies, and anthropomorphisms: in short, a sum of human relations which have been poetically and rhetorically intensified, transferred, and embellished, and which, after long usage, seem to a people to be fixed, canonical, and binding. Truths are illusions which we have forgotten are illusions — they are metaphors that have become worn out and have been drained of sensuous force.

Go up close to your friend, but do not go over to him! We should also respect the enemy in our friend.

If there is to be art, if there is to be any aesthetic doing and seeing, one physiological condition is indispensable: frenzy.

If you know the why, you can live any how.