Humility Has The Toughest Hide.

Love Your Enemies Because They Bring Out The Best In You.

He Who Rejoices Even At The Stake Triumphs Not Over Pain But Over The Absence Of Pain Where He Had Anticipated Feeling It. A Parable.

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?

The Perfect Woman Perpetrates Literature As She Perpetrates A Small Sin: As An Experiment, In Passing, Glancing Around To See Whether Anybody Notices--and To Make Sure That Somebody Notices.

I Call A Lie: Wanting Not To See Something One Does See, Wanting Not To See Something As One Sees It... The Most Common Lie Is The Lie One Tells To Oneself; Lying To Others Is Relatively The Exception.