I And Me Are Always Too Deeply

The Discipline Of Suffering, Of Great Suffering- Do You Not Know That Only This Discipline Has Created All Enhancements Of Man So Far? That Tension Of The Soul In Unhappiness Which Cultivates Its Strength, Its Shudders Face To Face With Great Ruin, Its Inventiveness And Courage In Enduring, Preserving, Interpreting, And Exploiting Suffering, And Whatever Has Been Granted To It Of Profundity, Secret, Mask, Spirit, Cunning, Greatness- Was It Not Granted To It Through Suffering, Through The Discipline Of Great Suffering?

The Devotion Of The Greatest Is To Encounter Risk And Danger, And Play Dice For Death.

Why Couldn't The World That Concerns Us- Be A Fiction? And If Somebody Asked, 'but To Be A Fiction There Surely Belongs An Author?'- Couldn't One Answer Simply: 'why? Doesn't This "belongs" Perhaps Belong To The Fiction, Too?'

Without Art We Would Be Nothing But Foreground And Live Entirely In The Spell Of That Perspective Which Makes What Is Closest At Hand And Most Vulgar Appear As If It Were Vast, And Reality Itself.

While Every Noble Morality Develops From A Triumphant Affirmation Of Itself, Slave Morality From The Outset Says No To What Is "outside," What Is "different," What Is "not Itself"; And This No Is Its Creative Deed.