If We Possess A Why Of Life

Tragedy Is Dead! Poetry Itself Died With It! Away, Away With You, Puny, Stunted Imitators! Away With You To Hades, And Eat Your Fill Of The Old Masters' Crumbs!

In Order To Be Able Thus To Misjudge, And Thus To Grant Left-handed Veneration To Our Classics, People Must Have Ceased To Know Them. This, Generally Speaking, Is Precisely What Has Happened. For, Otherwise, One Ought To Know That There Is Only One Way Of Honoring Them, And That Is To Continue Seeking With The Same Spirit And With The Same Courage, And Not To Weary Of The Search.

We Should Consider Every Day Lost On Which We Have Not Danced At Least Once.

Those Who Are Slow To Know Suppose That Slowness Is The Essence Of Knowledge.

The First Opinion That Occurs To Us When We Are Suddenly Asked About Something Is Usually Not Our Own But Only The Current One Pertaining To Our Class, Position, Or Parentage; Our Own Opinions Seldom Swim On The Surface.