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Give me today, for once, the worst throw of your dice, destiny. Today I transmute everything into gold.
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Sharp and mild, dull and keen, well known and strange, dirty and clean, where both the fool and wise are seen: All this am I, have ever been, - in me dove, snake and swine convene!
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One can only be silent and sit peacefully when one hath arrow and bow; otherwise one prateth and quarrelleth. Let your peace be a victory!
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What if God were not exactly truth, and if this could be proved? And if he were instead the vanity, the desire for power, the ambitions, the fear, and the enraptured and terrified folly of mankind?
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Precisely the least, the softest, lightest, a lizard's rustling, a breath, a flash, a moment - a little makes the way of the best happiness.
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The parasites live where the great have little secret sores.
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Look not into the sun! Even the moon is too bright for your nocturnal eyes!
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There is a lake that one day refused to flow away and threw up a dam at the place where it had before flowed out and since then this lake has always risen higher and higher. Perhaps the very act of renunciation provides us with the strength to bear it ; perhaps man will rise ever higher and higher when he no longer flows out into a God.
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The love of truth has its reward in heaven and even on earth.
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Linguistic danger to spiritual freedom.- Every word is a prejudice.
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Diesen Ernsthaften diene zur Belehrung, dass ich von der Kunst als der höchsten Aufgabe und der eigentlich metaphysischen Thätigkeit dieses Lebens im Sinne des Mannes überzeugt bin, dem ich hier, als meinem erhabenen Vorkämpfer auf dieser Bahn, diese Schrift gewidmet haben will.
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A joke is an epigram on the death of a feeling.
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The surest sign of the estrangement of the opinions of two persons is when they both say something ironical to each other and neither of them feels the irony.
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The doer alone learneth.
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Go through the towns and ask yourselves whether these people should reproduce! Let them go to their whores!
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No one talks more passionately about his rights than he who in the depths of his soul doubts whether he has any.
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From passions grow opinions; intellectual laziness lets these harden into convictions.
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Joy wants the eternity of all things, wants deep, wants deep eternity.
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You tell me: 'Life is hard to bear.' But if it were otherwise why should ou have your pride in the morning nad your resignation in the evening?
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What can everyone do? Praise and blame. This is human virtue, this is human madness.
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All names of good and evil are images; they do not speak out, they only hint. He is a fool who seeks knowledge from them.
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Indeed, at hearing the news that 'the old god is dead', we philosophers and 'free spirits' feel illuminated by a new dawn; our heart overflows with gratitude, amazement, forebodings, expectation - finally the horizon seems clear again, even if not bright; finally our ships may set out again, set out to face any danger; every daring of the lover of knowledge is allowed again; the sea, our sea, lies open again; maybe there has never been such an 'open sea'.
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. . . an absurd problem came to the surface: 'How COULD God permit that (crucifixion of Jesus Christ)!' . . . the deranged reason of the little community found quite a frightfully absurd answer: God gave his Son for forgiveness, as a SACRIFICE . . . The SACRIFICE FOR GUILT, and just in its most repugnant and barbarous form - the sacrifice of the innocent for the sins of the guilty! What horrifying heathenism!
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Whoever has not two-thirds of his time to himself, is a slave.