Everything The State Says Is A Lie,

Watch Them Clamber, These Swift Monkeys! They Clamber Over One Another And Thus Drag One Another Into The Mud And The Depth. They All Want To Get To The Throne: That Is Their Madness — As If Happiness Sat On The Throne. Often, Mud Sits On The Throne — And Often The Throne Also On Mud. Mad They All Appear To Me, Clambering Monkeys And Overardent. Foul Smells Their Idol, The Cold Monster: Foul, They Smell To Me Altogether, These Idolators.

How Poisonous, How Crafty, How Bad, Does Every Long War Make One, Which Cannot Be Waged Openly By Means Of Force!

I Want To Know Whether You Are A Person Devoted To Creating Or To Exchanging In Some Respect Or Other: As A Creator You Belong Tothe Free, As An Exchanger You Are Their Slave And Instrument.

It Seems To Me That To Take A Book Of Mine Into His Hands Is One Of The Rarest Distinctions That Anyone Can Confer Upon Himself. I Even Assume That He Removes His Shoes When He Does So-not To Speak Of Boots.

The Ability To Suffer Is A Small Matter - Weak Women And Even Slaves Can Acheive Virtuosity In That.