The experiences show us just as we are; they make us see our own defects.

Each indecision brings its own delays and days are lost lamenting over lost days... What you can do or think you can do, begin it. For boldness has magic, power, and genius in it.

The web of this world is woven of Necessity and Chance. Woe to him who has accustomed himself from his youth up to find something necessary in what is capricious, and who would ascribe something like reason to Chance and make a religion of surrendering to it.

What is the path? There is no path. On into the unknown.

Happy contractedness of youth, nay, of mankind in general, that they think neither of the high nor the deep, of the true nor the false, but only of what is suited to their own conceptions.

Normally, the sciences distance themselves from life and the return to it via a detour.

The one who acts is always without conscience; nobody has a conscience but the contemplative person.