Pain Makes Hens And Poets

Actual Philosophers... Are Commanders And Law-givers: They Say "thus It Shall Be!", It Is They Who Determine The Wherefore And Whither Of Mankind, And They Possess For This Task The Preliminary Work Of All The Philosophical Laborers, Of All Those Who Have Subdued The Past - They Reach For The Future With Creative Hand, And Everything That Is Or Has Been Becomes For Them A Means, An Instrument, A Hammer.

It Is Only Great Pain--that Slow, Sustained Pain That Takes Its Time, In Which We Are, As It Were, Burned With Smoldering Green Firewood--that Forces Us Philosophers To Sink To Our Ultimate Profundity And To Do Away With All The Trust, Everything Good-natured, Veil-imposing, Mild And Middling, On Which We May Have Previously Based Our Humanity. I Doubt That Such A Pain Makes Us 'better'--but I Know That It Makes Us Deeper.

When One Gives Up Christian Belief One Thereby Deprives Oneself Of The Right To Christian Morality. For The Latter Is Absolutely Not Self-evident: One Must Make This Point Clear Again And Again, In Spite Of English Shallowpates.

In Constructing Concepts, We Overlook The Fact That No Two Things Are The Same. There Is No Such Thing As The Concept Of A Leaf, Only Billions And Billions Of Leaves.

One Repays A Teacher Badly If One Always Remains Nothing But A Pupil.