All Words Are Prejudices.

I Need Solitude, Which Is To Say, Recovery, Return To My Self, The Breath Of A Free, Light, Playful Air.

In Order To Be Somebody You Have To Hold Even Your Shadow In High Regard.

Amor Fati – “love Your Fate”, Which Is In Fact Your Life.

The Various Languages Placed Side By Side Show That With Words It Is Never A Question Of Truth, Never A Question Of Adequate Expression; Otherwise, There Would Not Be So Many Languages. The 'thing In Itself' (which Is Precisely What The Pure Truth, Apart From Any Of Its Consequences, Would Be) Is Likewise Something Quite Incomprehensible To The Creator Of Language And Something Not In The Least Worth Striving For.

All Good Things Were Formerly Bad Things; Every Original Sin Has Turned Into An Original Virtue.