Man, A Hybrid Of Plant And Ghost.

Your God Is Dead And Only The Ignorant Weep. And If You Claim There Is A Hell, Then We Shall Meet There!

The Radical Hostility, The Deadly Hostility Against Sensuality, Is Always A Symptom To Reflect On: It Entitles Us To Suppositions Concerning The Total State Of One Who Is Excessive In This Manner.

Man Is Something That Shall Be Overcome.... Man Is A Rope, Tied Between Beast And Overman -- A Rope Over An Abyss... What Is Great In Man Is That He Is A Bridge And Not An End.

What Then Is Truth? A Movable Host Of Metaphors, Metonymies, And Anthropomorphisms: In Short, A Sum Of Human Relations Which Have Been Poetically And Rhetorically Intensified, Transferred, And Embellished, And Which, After Long Usage, Seem To A People To Be Fixed, Canonical, And Binding. Truths Are Illusions Which We Have Forgotten Are Illusions — They Are Metaphors That Have Become Worn Out And Have Been Drained Of Sensuous Force.

Many Other Such Substitutes For War Will Be Discovered, But Perhaps Precisely Thereby It Will Become More And More Obvious That Such A Highly Cultivated And Therefore Necessarily Enfeebled Humanity As That Of Modern Europe Not Only Needs Wars, But The Greatest And Most Terrible Wars, Consequently Occasional Relapses Into Barbarism, Lest, By The Means Of Culture, It Should Lose Its Culture And Its Very Existence.