A Friend Whose Hopes We Cannot Satisfy

At A Certain Place In Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, For Example, He Might Feel That He Is Floating Above The Earth In A Starry Dome, With The Dream Of Immortality In His Heart; All The Stars Seem To Glimmer Around Him, And The Earth Seems To Sink Ever Deeper Downwards.

Ye Are Ugly? Well Then, My Brethren, Take The Sublime About You, The Mantle Of The Ugly!

I No Longer Want To Walk On Worn Soles.

I Do Not Know What The Spirit Of A Philosopher Could More Wish To Be Than A Good Dancer. For The Dance Is His Ideal, Also His Fine Art, Finally Also The Only Kind Of Piety He Knows, His 'divine Service.'

Verily, I Do Not Like Them, The Merciful Who Feel Blessed In Their Pity: They Are Lacking Too Much In Shame. If I Must Pity, At Least I Do Not Want It Known; And If I Do Pity, It Is Preferably From A Distance.