Solitude Makes Us Tougher Towards

Out Of Damp And Gloomy Days, Out Of Solitude, Out Of Loveless Words Directed At Us, Conclusions Grow Up In Us Like Fungus: One Morning They Are There, We Know Not How, And They Gaze Upon Us, Morose And Gray. Woe To The Thinker Who Is Not The Gardener But Only The Soil Of The Plants That Grow In Him.

Morality Is: The Mediocre Are Worth More Than The Exceptions ... I Abhore Christianity With A Deadly Hatred.

The Moral Earth, Too, Is Round! The Moral Earth, Too, Has Its Antipodes! The Antipodes, Too, Have Their Right To Exist! There Is Still Another World To Be Discovered--and More Than One! Set Sail, You Philosophers!

In Morality, Man Treats Himself Not As Individuum But As Dividuum.

Death Is Close Enough At Hand So We Do Not Need To Be Afraid Of Life.