Our Deeds Are Fetters That We Forge

When The Soul Is Just Liberated From The Wretched Giant's Bed Of Dogmas On Which It Has Been Racked And Stretched Ever Since It Began To Think, There Is A Feeling Of Exultation And Strong Hope.

It Is Necessary To Me, Not Simply To Be But To Utter, And I Require Utterance Of My Friends.

The Yoke A Man Creates For Himself By Wrong-doing Will Breed Hate In The Kindliest Nature.

Melodies Die Out, Like The Pipe Of Pan, With The Ears That Love Them And Listen For Them.

A Perverted Moral Judgment Belongs To The Dogmatic System.