The Brains -the Thinking Organs-

It Is Certain My Belief Gains Quite Infinitely The Very Moment I Can Convince Another Mind Thereof

Philosophy Is Really Nostalgia, The Desire To Be At Home.

Sometimes With The Most Intense Pain A Paralysis Of Sensibility Occurs. The Soul Disintegrates--hence The Deadly Frost--the Free Power Of The Mind--the Shattering, Ceaseless Wit Of This Kind Of Despair. There Is No Inclination For Anything Any More--the Person Is Alone, Like A Baleful Power--as He Has No Connection With The Rest Of The World He Consumes Himself Gradually--and In Accordance With His Own Principle He Is--misanthropic And Misotheos.

Play Is Experimenting With Chance.

I Often Feel, And Ever More Deeply I Realize, That Fate And Character Are The Same Conception.