In Magnanimity There Is The

Love As A Passion—it Is Our European Specialty—must Absolutely Be Of Noble Origin; As Is Well Known, Its Invention Is Due To The Provencal Poet-cavaliers, Those Brilliant, Ingenious Men Of The "gai Saber," To Whom Europe Owes So Much, And Almost Owes Itself.

When Good Friends Praise A Gifted Person He Often Appears To Be Delighted With Them Out Of Politeness And Goodwill, But In Reality He Feels Indifferent.

There Is Only A Perspective Seeing, Only A Perspective 'knowing'; And The More Affects We Allow To Speak About One Thing, The More Eyes, Different Eyes, We Can Use To Observe One Thing, The More Complete Will Our 'concept' Of This Thing, Our 'objectivity,' Be.

To Be Moral, Correct, And Virtuous Is To Be Obedient To An Old Established Law And Custom.

Many Other Such Substitutes For War Will Be Discovered, But Perhaps Precisely Thereby It Will Become More And More Obvious That Such A Highly Cultivated And Therefore Necessarily Enfeebled Humanity As That Of Modern Europe Not Only Needs Wars, But The Greatest And Most Terrible Wars, Consequently Occasional Relapses Into Barbarism, Lest, By The Means Of Culture, It Should Lose Its Culture And Its Very Existence.