Love Forgives The Lover Even His Lust.

Give Me Today, For Once, The Worst Throw Of Your Dice, Destiny. Today I Transmute Everything Into Gold.

Success Has Always Been The Greatest Liar - And The "work" Itself Is A Success; The Great Statesman, The Conqueror, The Discoverer Is Disguised By His Creations, Often Beyond Recognition; The "work," Whether Of The Artist Or The Philosopher, Invents The Man Who Has Created It, Who Is Supposed To Have Create It; "great Men," As They Are Venerated, Are Subsequent Pieces Of Wretched Minor Fiction

Everything Becomes And Recurs Eternally - Escape Is Impossible!

For One Thing Is Needful: That A Human Being Should Attain Satisfaction With Himself, Whether It Be By Means Of This Or That Poetry Or Art; Only Then Is A Human Being At All Tolerable To Behold. Whoever Is Dissatisfied With Himself Is Constantly Ready For Revenge, And We Others Will Be His Victims, If Only By Having To Endure His Ugly Sight.

Let Us Beware Of Saying There Are Laws In Nature. There Are Only Necessities: There Is No One To Command, No One To Obey, No One To Transgress. When You Realize There Are No Goals Or Objectives, Then You Realize, Too, That There Is No Chance: For Only In A World Of Objectives Does The Word Chance Have Any Meaning.