Silence Is Worse; All Truths That Are

A Woman May Very Well Form A Friendship With A Man, But For This To Endure, It Must Be Assisted By A Little Physical Antipathy.

Against Boredom Even Gods Struggle In Vain.

God Is Dead. God Remains Dead. And We Have Killed Him. How Shall We Comfort Ourselves, The Murderers Of All Murderers? What Was Holiest And Mightiest Of All That The World Has Yet Owned Has Bled To Death Under Our Knives: Who Will Wipe This Blood Off Us? What Water Is There For Us To Clean Ourselves? What Festivals Of Atonement, What Sacred Games Shall We Have To Invent? Is Not The Greatness Of This Deed Too Great For Us? Must We Ourselves Not Become Gods Simply To Appear Worthy Of It?

We Are, All Of Us, Growing Volcanoes That Approach The Hour Of Their Eruption, But How Near Or Distant That Is, Nobody Knows- Not Even God.

And If Your Friend Does Evil To You, Say To Him, ''i Forgive You For What You Did To Me, But How Can I Forgive You For What You Did To Yourself?