Childhood And Youth Are Ends In Themselves,

Such A Man As Instinctively Feeds On Pure Ambrosia And Leaves Alone The Indigestible In Things.

Watch Them Clamber, These Swift Monkeys! They Clamber Over One Another And Thus Drag One Another Into The Mud And The Depth. They All Want To Get To The Throne: That Is Their Madness — As If Happiness Sat On The Throne. Often, Mud Sits On The Throne — And Often The Throne Also On Mud. Mad They All Appear To Me, Clambering Monkeys And Overardent. Foul Smells Their Idol, The Cold Monster: Foul, They Smell To Me Altogether, These Idolators.

The More Abstract The Truth You Wish To Teach, The More Must You Allure The Senses To It.

I Am Not A Human Being, I Am Dynamite.

Our Drives Are Reducible To The Will To Power. The Will To Power Is The Ultimate Fact At Which We Arrive.