Friedrich Nietzsche Quotes
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Our destiny exercises its influence over us even when, as yet, we have not learned its nature: it is our future that lays down the law of our today.
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Stupidity in a woman is unfeminine.
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What is happening to me happens to all fruits that grow ripe. It is the honey in my veins that makes my blood thicker, and my soul quieter.
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Epicurus had rage and envy of Plato's superior style.
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We ought to learn from the kine one thing: ruminating.
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People press toward the light not in order to see better but in order to shine better.--We are happy to regard the one before whomwe shine as light.
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It is not things, but opinions about things that have absolutely no existence, which have so deranged mankind!
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You lovers of knowledge! So what have you done out of your love of knowledge up to now? Have you already stolen and murdered so as to know how a thief and a murderer feels?
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What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal: what there is to love in man is that he is a going-over and a going-under.
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Wie? ist der Mensch nur ein Fehlgriff Gottes? Oder Gott nur ein Fehlgriff des Menschen?
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Anyone who has looked deeply into the world may guess how much wisdom lies in the superficiality of men. The instinct that preserves them teaches them to be flighty light, and false.
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All words are prejudices.
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Even today a crude sort of persecution is all that is required to create an honorable name for any sect, no matter how indifferent in itself.
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The spiritual activity of millennia is deposited in language.
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Everywhere resoundeth the voices of those who preach death; and the earth is full of those to whom death hath to be preached.
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Genuine historical knowledge requires nobility of character, a profound understanding of human existence - not detachment and objectivity.
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Creation is the great redemption from suffering and all life's growing light. But the creator must be suffering if needed and accept much change.
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The final reward of the dead - to die no more.
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The world is poor for him who has never been sick enough for this 'voluptuousness of hell':
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He who knoweth the reader, doeth nothing more for the reader. Another century of readers - and spirit itself will stink.
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Love is blind; friendship closes its eyes.
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At a certain place in Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, for example, he might feel that he is floating above the earth in a starry dome, with the dream of immortality in his heart; all the stars seem to glimmer around him, and the earth seems to sink ever deeper downwards.
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Something might be true while being harmful and dangerous in the highest degree. Indeed, it might be a basic characteristic of existence that those who know it completely would perish, in which case the strength of a spirit should be measured according to how much of the 'truth' one could still barely endure- or to put it more clearly, to what degree one would require it to be thinned down, shrouded, sweetened, blunted, falsified.
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Again and again I am brought up against it, and again and again I resist it: I don't want to believe it, even though it is almost palpable: the vast majority lack an intellectual conscience; indeed, it often seems to me that to demand such a thing is to be in the most populous cities as solitary as in the desert.