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Quote by Friedrich Nietzsche

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Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Thus Spoke Zarathustra is a philosophical novel that delves into profound themes such as the will to power, the eternal recurrence, and the concept of the Übermensch. The book is a collection of aphorisms and dialogues narrated by the character Zarathustra, who seeks to inspire others to embrace life and strive for self-overcoming. Written by the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche, the work is considered a cornerstone of modern Western philosophy. more

Author

Friedrich Nietzsche
Friedrich Nietzsche

Friedrich Nietzsche was a German philosopher, cultural critic, poet, and writer whose works have had a profound impact on subsequent philosophy, literature, and thought. His ideas revolve around concepts such as the 'will to power', the 'Übermensch', and the 'eternal recurrence'. more

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“She blinked and kissed me abruptly, somewhere between mouth and cheek. It was an inaccuracy I didn't try to correct either way. I turned away before I could see if there were going to be any tears and started for the doors at the far end of the hall. I looked back once, as I was mounting the steps. Ortega was still standing there, arms wrapped around herself, watching me leave. In the stormlight, it was too far away to see her face clearly. For a moment something ached in me, something so deep-rooted that I knew to tear it out would be to undo the essence of what held me together. The feeling rose and splashed like the rain behind my eyes, swelling as the drumming on the roof panels grew and the glass ran with water.”

“We shall not sip from the same glass, No water for us, or sweet wine; We’ll not embrace at morning, Not gaze from the same sill at night; You breathe the sun, I the moon, Yet the one love keeps us alive. Always with me, tender, true friend, And your smiling friend’s with you. But I know the pain in your grey eyes, And my sickness is down to you, too. In short, we mustn’t meet often, To be certain of peace of mind. Yet it’s your voice sings in my poems, And in your poems my breath sighs, O, beyond the reach of distance or fear, There is a fire… And if you knew how dear to me Are those dry, pale lips of yours now.”