In the Christianity of Christendom the Cross has become something like the child’s hobby-horse and trumpet.

Philosophy is life's dry-nurse, who can take care of us - but not suckle us.

Death induces the sensual person to say: Let us eat and drink, because tomorrow we shall die - but this is sensuality's cowardly lust for life, that contemptible order of things where one lives in order to eat and drink instead of eating and drinking in order to live.

There is nothing with which every man is so afraid as getting to know how enormously much he is capable of doing and becoming.

Not just in commerce but in the world of ideas too our age is putting on a veritable clearance sale. Everything can be had so dirt cheap that one begins to wonder whether in the end anyone will want to make a bid.

Whoever has the world's treasures has them no matter how he got them. In the world of the spirit it is otherwise.

In my great melancholy, I loved life, for I love my melancholy.