One Has To Know The Size Of

I Have Forgotten My Umbrella.

Reality Is Captured In The Categorical Nets Of Language Only At The Expense Of Fatal Distortion.

Now Know I Well What People Sought Formerly Above All Else When They Sought Teachers Of Virtue. Good Sleep They Sought For Themselves, And Poppy-head Virtues To Promote It! To All Those Be-lauded Sages Of The Academic Chairs, Wisdom Was Sleep Without Dreams: They Knew No Higher Significance Of Life. Even At Present, To Be Sure, There Are Some Like This Preacher Of Virtue, And Not Always So Honorable: But Their Time Is Past. And Not Much Longer Do They Stand: There They Already Lie. Blessed Are Those Drowsy Ones: For They Shall Soon Nod To Sleep.-thus Spoke Zarathustra.

Fanatics Are Picturesque, Mankind Would Rather See Gestures Than Listen To Reasons.

Enjoyment And Innocence Are The Most Bashful Things: Both Do Not Want To Be Sought.