Thinking about suicide is a potent consolation: it helps us to get through many a bad night.

We possess art lest we perish of the truth.

We would not let ourselves be burned to death for our opinions: we are not sure enough of them for that.

It is our needs that interpret the world; our drives and their For and Against. Every drive is a kind of lust to rule; each one has its perspective that it would like to compel all other drives to accept as a norm.

The world is beautiful, but has a disease called man.

One can promise actions, but not feelings, for the latter are involuntary. He who promises to love forever or hate forever or be forever faithful to someone is promising something that is not in his power.

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