I Was A Town Child, It Is

I Did Not Know What It Was To Be Happy For A Whole Day At A Time, Scarcely For An Hour.

I Was At Home Then In The World Of Figures, But Not In That Of Values.

Poor Is The Power Of The Lead That Becomes Bullets Compared To The Power Of The Hot Metal That Becomes Types.

Any Feeling That I Was Enriching My Mind From Those Surrounding Me Was Unfortunately Rare With Me.

It Appears To Nietzsche That The Modern Age Has Produced For Imitation Three Types Of Man ... First, Rousseau's Man, The Titan Who Raises Himself ... And In His Need Calls Upon Holy Nature. Then Goethe's Man ... A Spectator Of The World ... Third Schopenhauer's Man ... Voluntarily Takes Upon Himself The Pain Of Telling The Truth.