God Is Dead, God Remains Dead, And

We Are Franker Towards Others Than Towards Ourselves.

One Must Still Have Chaos In Oneself To Be Able To Give Birth To A Dancing Star.

Man, Full Of Emptiness And Torn Apart With Homesickness For The Desert Has Had To Create From Within Himself An Adventure, A Torture-chamber, An Unsafe And Hazardous Wilderness- This Fool, This Prisoner Consumed With Longing And Despair, Became The Inventor Of 'bad Conscience'.

I Climb Upon The Highest Mountains, Laughing At All Tragedies - Whether Real Or Imaginary.

I Should Not Believe In A God Who Does Not Dance.