When he judged himself, that was his supreme moment.
I tell you: one must still have chaos in oneself to give birth to a dancing star. I tell you: you still have chaos in yourselves.
Flight from boredom is the mother of all art.
Of all that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his blood. Write with blood, and thou wilt find that blood is spirit. It is no easy task to understand unfamiliar blood; I hate the reading idlers. He who knoweth the reader, doeth nothing more for the reader. Another century of readers—and spirit itself will stink.
And granted that your imperative, "living according to Nature," means actually the same as "living according to life"--how could you do DIFFERENTLY? Why should you make a principle out of what you yourselves are, and must be?
Unlearn, I pray you, this for, ye creating ones: your very virtue wisheth you to have naught to do with for and on account of and because. Against these false little words shall ye stop your ears.