What Is Wrong With Christianity Is That

To Experience A Thing As Beautiful Means: To Experience It Necessarily Wrongly.

The Good-they Cannot Create; They Are Always The Beginning Of The End.

I Call Christianity The One Great Curse, The One Great Intrinsic Depravity, And The One Great Instinct Of Revenge, For Which No Means Are Venomous Enough, Or Secret, Subterranean And Small Enough - I Call It The One Immortal Blemish On The Human Race.

God Is Dead. God Remains Dead. And We Have Killed Him. How Shall We Comfort Ourselves, The Murderers Of All Murderers? What Was Holiest And Mightiest Of All That The World Has Yet Owned Has Bled To Death Under Our Knives: Who Will Wipe This Blood Off Us? What Water Is There For Us To Clean Ourselves? What Festivals Of Atonement, What Sacred Games Shall We Have To Invent? Is Not The Greatness Of This Deed Too Great For Us? Must We Ourselves Not Become Gods Simply To Appear Worthy Of It?

So Long As The Spectator Has To Figure Out The Meaning Of This Or That Person, Or The Presuppositions Of This Or That Conflict Of Inclinations And Purposes, He Cannot Become Completely Absorbed In The Activities And Sufferings Of The Chief Characters Or Feel Breathless Pity And Fear.