[B]ecause we see only a few features of the immeasurable carpet into which the earth spirit weaves the times, let us be humble. There is a surrender in which alone lies bliss and perfection and peace, a kind of contemplation, which I might call dissolution in the divine; let us strive to reach this, and not complain about the destinies of the universe.

We see single symptoms, hear one heartbeat of the century, and want to conclude from this that it is diseased.

[W]ithin me, the longing is always new and vivid to express my life in an enduring form, in a figure that would be worthy of joining the most excellent, greeting them and being in community with them. Yes, I have always lusted after this community[.]

[E]ach individual is holy, it is God’s work, it is its own purpose. If it becomes what it can become according to its nature, then it has done enough, and what it profits others is a side issue.

Why do human beings cling with such strength to thoughts and opinions, as if they were what is eternal? Why can they die for them, when precisely these thoughts are lost with their death?

Why, then, is everything on earth good except human beings? Why should they alone become different than they are?

Let yourself live as you are without playing tricks on yourself, i.e., without trying to force yourself to love things that you cannot love.

Everything that was created is good, says the holy writing; why not human beings only? Why should they be otherwise than they are? Strange! - This fills me with sorrow. To slaughter one's sensations and wishes on the altars of necessity or morality, one calls that virtue.

I have always read biographies with a peculiar joy, and in doing so it always appeared to me as if one could not invent a complete person; one only ever discovers one side and the complexity of human existence is never achieved[.]

[I]t seems so sweet to be loved by excellent people; to me it is the most flattering proof of my own value.