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He who attains his ideal, precisely thereby surpasses it.
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If we make sacrifices in doing good or in doing ill, it does not alter the ultimate value of our actions; even if we stake our life in the cause, as martyrs do for the sake of our church : it is a sacrifice to our longing for power, or for the purpose of conserving our sense of power.
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Man is more sensitive to the contempt of others than to self-contempt.
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The purpose of criminal law is to punish the enemies of those in power.
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Who has not for the sake of his reputation sacrificed himself?
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Take a chance and try my fare! It will grow on you, I swear; Soon it will taste good to you!
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You are rewarding a teacher poorly if you remain always a pupil.
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O sancta simplicitas! What strange simplification and falsification mankind lives on! One can never cease to marvel once one has acquired eyes for this marvel! How we have made everything around us bright and free and easy and simple! How we have known how to bestow on our senses a passport to everything superficial, on our thoughts a divine desire for wanton gambling and false conclusions! - how we have from the very beginning understood how to retain our ignorance so as to enjoy an almost inconceivable freedom, frivolity, impetuosity, bravery, cheerfulness of life, so as to enjoy life!
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I obviously do everything to be "hard to understand" myself.
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We seldom break a leg as long as we are climbing wearily upwards in our lives, instead we do it when we start going easy on ourselves and choosing the comfortable paths.
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Whoever writes in blood and aphorisms wants not to be learned but to be learned by heart.
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Belief in form, but disbelief in content - that's what makes an aphorism charming.
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I love him who scattereth golden words in advance of his deeds, and always doeth more than he promiseth: for he seeketh his own down-going.
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Whenever I climb I am followed by a dog called 'Ego'.
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In this state one enriches everything out of one's own fullness: whatever one sees, whatever wills is seen swelled, taut, strong, overloaded with strength. A man in this state transforms things until they mirror his power—until they are reflections of his perfection. This having to transform into perfection is—art.
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The grand style follows suit with all great passion. It disdains to please, it forgets to persuade. It commands. It wills.
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Our shortcomings are the eyes with which we see the ideal.
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Evolution does not make happiness its goal; it aims simply at evolution and nothing else.
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It is inhuman to bless where one is cursed.
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The truth is ugly: we have art so as not to perish from the truth.
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Priests ... these turkey-cocks of God.
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Man would sooner have the Void for his purpose than be void of Purpose.
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It is only those who know how to feel that "this is not good" who devise improvements.
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Love is more afraid of change than destruction.