Not Their Love Of Humanity, But The

However Modest One May Be In One's Demand For Intellectual Cleanliness, One Cannot Help Feeling, When Coming Into Contact With The New Testament, A Kind Of Inexpressible Discomfiture: For The Unchecked Impudence With Which The Least Qualified Want To Raise Their Voice On The Greatest Problems, And Even Claim To Be Judges Of Such Things, Surpasses All Measure. The Shameless Levity With Which The Most Intractable Problems (life, World, God, Purpose Of Life) Are Spoken Of, As If They Were Not Problems At All But Simply Things That These Little Bigots Knew!

Moderation Sees Itself As Beautiful; It Is Unaware That In The Eye Of The Immoderate It Appears Black And Sober And Consequently Ugly-looking.

I Am Driven Out Of Fatherlands And Motherlands. Thus I Now Love Only My Children's Land, Yet Undiscovered, In The Farthest Sea; For This I Bid My Sails Search And Search.

Instinct. When The House Burns One Forgets Even Lunch. Yes, But One Eats It Later In The Ashes.

You Know These Things As Thoughts, But Your Thoughts Are Not Your Experiences, They Are An Echo And After-effect Of Your Experiences: As When Your Room Trembles Whe Na Carriage Goes Past. I However Am Sitting In The Carriage, And Often I Am The Carriage Itself. Ina Man Who Thinks Like This, The Dichotomy Between Thinking And Feeling, Intellect And Passion, Has Really Disappeared. He Feels His Thoughts. He Can Fall In Love With An Idea. An Idea Can Make Him Ill.