The world is beautiful, but has a disease called man.
To give style to one's character—that is a grand and rare art! He who surveys all that his nature presents in its strength and in its weakness, and then fashions it into an ingenious plan, until everything appears artistic and rational, and even the weaknesses enchant the eye..exercises that admirable art.
And this hypocrisy found I worst amongst them, that even those who command feign the virtues of those who serve.
All my human relationships have to do with a mask of me, and I must perpetually be the victim of living a completely hidden life.
Imagine to yourselves a being like Nature, boundlessly extravagant, boundlessly indifferent, without purpose or consideration, without pity or justice, at once fruitful and barren and uncertain: imagine to yourselves INDIFFERENCE as a power—how COULD you live in accordance with such indifference?
Why does man not see things? He is himself standing in the way: he conceals things.