Light For Some Time To

The Truthful Man Ends Up Realizing That He Always Lies.

A Woman's Pity, Which Is Talkative, Carries The Sick Person's Bed To The Public Marketplace.

Whatever A Theologian Regards As True Must Be False: There You Have Almost A Criterion Of Truth.

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.

How Can A Man Know Himself? He Is A Thing Dark And Veiled; And If The Hare Has Seven Skins, Man Can Slough Off Seventy Times Seven And Still Not Be Able To Say: "this Is Really You, This Is No Longer Outer Shell.