The Best Weapon Against An Enemy Is

He Who Has Always Spared Himself Much Will In The End Become Sickly Of So Much Consideration. Praised Be What Hardens!

New Ways I Go, A New Speech Comes To Me; Weary I Grow, Like All Creators, Of The Old Tongues. My Spirit No Longer Wants To Walk On Worn Soles.

What The Sense Feeleth, What The Spirit Discerneth, Hath Never Its End In Itself. But Sense And Spirit Would Fain Persuade Thee That They Are The End Of All Things: So Vain Are They.

This Is The Manner Of Noble Souls: They Do Not Want To Have Anything For Nothing; Least Of All, Life. Whoever Is Of The Mob Wants To Live For Nothing; We Others, However, To Whom Life Gave Itself, We Always Think About What We Might Best Give In Return... One Should Not Wish To Enjoy Where One Does Not Give Joy.

To Have To Fight The Instincts - That Is The Definition Of Decadence: As Long As Life Is Ascending, Happiness Equals Instinct.