I Despise Mystics, They Fancy Themselves So

The Most Spiritual Men, As The Strongest, Find Their Happiness Where Others Would Find Their Destruction: In The Labyrinth, In Hardness Against Themselves And Others, In Experiments. Their Joy Is Self-conquest: Asceticism Becomes In Them Nature, Need, And Instinct. Difficult Tasks Are A Privilege To Them; To Play With Burdens That Crush Others, A Recreation. Knowledge-a Form Of Asceticism. They Are The Most Venerable Kind Of Man: That Does Not Preclude Their Being The Most Cheerful And The Kindliest.

Thinking Evil Is Making Evil.

The Anarchist And The Christian Have A Common Origin.

Man... Cannot Learn To Forget, But Hangs On The Past: However Far Or Fast He Runs, That Chain Runs With Him.

When Death Brings At Last The Desired Forgetfulness, It Abolishes Life And Being Together, And Sets The Seal On The Knowledge That "being" Is Merely A Continual "has Been," A Thing That Lives By Denying And Destroying And Contradicting Itself.