Memory Itself Is An Internal Rumour.

Religion Is The Love Of Life In The Consciousness Of Impotence.

Nature Is Like A Beautiful Woman That May Be As Delightfully And As Truly Known At A Certain Distance As Upon A Closer View; As To Knowing Her Through And Through; That Is Nonsense In Both Cases, And Might Not Reward Our Pains.

Fanaticism Consists Of Redoubling Your Effort When You Have Forgotten Your Aim.

I Believe In General In A Dualism Between Facts And The Ideas Of Those Facts In Human Heads.

A Body Seriously Out Of Equilibrium, Either With Itself Or With Its Environment, Perishes Outright. Not So A Mind. Madness And Suffering Can Set Themselves No Limit.