He Who Seeks Intelligence Lacks

But Like Infection Is The Petty Thought: It Creeps And Hides, And Wants To Be Nowhere--until The Whole Body Is Decayed And Withered By The Petty Infection... Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

The Desire To Create Continually Is Vulgar And Betrays Jealousy, Envy, Ambition. If One Is Something One Really Does Not Need To Make Anything --and One Nonetheless Does Very Much. There Exists Above The ''productive'' Man A Yet Higher Species.

Out Of Love, Women Become Entirely What It Is That They Are In The Imaginations Of The Men Who Love Them.

Verily, I Do Not Want To Be Like The Ropemakers: They Drag Out Their Threads And Always Walk Backwards.

The Man Who Meets With A Failure Attributes This Failure Rather To The Ill Will Of Another Than To Fate.