There Is Nothing We Like To Communicate

Such Men Alone Are My Readers, My Proper Readers, My Preordained Readers. Of What Account Are The Rest? The Rest Are Simply... Humanity. One Must Be Superior To Humanity In Power, In Loftiness Of Soul- In Contempt.

I Know No Other Way To Associate With Great Tasks Than As Play: As A Sign Of Greatness, This Is An Essential Presupposition.

Now Know I Well What People Sought Formerly Above All Else When They Sought Teachers Of Virtue. Good Sleep They Sought For Themselves, And Poppy-head Virtues To Promote It! To All Those Be-lauded Sages Of The Academic Chairs, Wisdom Was Sleep Without Dreams: They Knew No Higher Significance Of Life. Even At Present, To Be Sure, There Are Some Like This Preacher Of Virtue, And Not Always So Honorable: But Their Time Is Past. And Not Much Longer Do They Stand: There They Already Lie. Blessed Are Those Drowsy Ones: For They Shall Soon Nod To Sleep.-thus Spoke Zarathustra.

How Much Disgruntled Heaviness, Lameness, Dampness, How Much Beer Is There In The German Intelligence.

Men After Death ... Are Understood Worse Than Men Of The Moment, But Heard Better.