The Man Loves Danger And Sport. That

Every Tradition Grows Continually More Venerable, And The More Remote Its Origins, The More This Is Lost Sight Of. The Veneration Paid The Tradition Accumulates From Generation To Generation, Until It At Last Becomes Holy And Excites Awe.

The One Conclusive Argument That Has At All Times Discouraged People From Drinking A Poison Is Not That It Kills But Rather That It Tastes Bad.

This Is One Of The Stout-hearted Old Warriors: He Is Angry With Civilization Because He Supposes That Its Aim Is To Make All Goodthings--honors, Treasures, Beautiful Women--accessible Even To Cowards.

What Is Evil?-whatever Springs From Weakness.

This Is The Fundamental Idea Of Culture, Insofar As It Sets But One Task For Each Of Us: To Further The Production Of The Philosopher, Of The Artist, And Of The Saint Within Us And Outside Us, And Thereby To Work At The Consummation Of Nature.