A Matter That Becomes Clear

To Explore The Whole Sphere Of The Modern Soul, To Have Sat In Every Nook- My Ambition, My Torture, And My Happiness

Our Vanity Is Hardest To Wound Precisely When Our Pride Has Just Been Wounded.

One Must Shed The Bad Taste Of Wanting To Agree With Many. "good" Is No Longer Good When One's Neighbor Mouths It. And How Should There Be A "common Good"! The Term Contradicts Itself: Whatever Can Be Common Always Has Little Value. In The End It Must Be As It Is And Always Has Been: Great Things Remain For The Great, Abysses For The Profound, Nuances And Shudders For The Refined, And, In Brief, All That Is Rare For The Rare.

Everything Goes, Everything Comes Back; Eternally Rolls The Wheel Of Being. Everything Dies, Everything Blossoms Again; Eternally Runs The Year Of Being. Everything Breaks, Everything Is Joined Anew; Eternally The Same House Of Being Is Built. Everything Parts, Everything Greets Every Other Thing Again; Eternally The Ring Of Being Remains Faithful To Itself. In Every Now, Being Begins; Round Every Here Rolls The Sphere There. The Center Is Everywhere. Bent Is The Path Of Eternity.

A Good Aphorism Is Too Hard For The Tooth Of Time, And Is Not Worn Away By All The Centuries, Although It Serves As Food For Every Epoch. Hence It Is The Greatest Paradox In Literature, The Imperishable In The Midst Of Change, The Nourishment Which Always Remains Highly Valued, As Salt Does, And Never Becomes Stupid Like Salt.