17
There is an artist after my own heart, modest in his needs: he really wants only two things, his bread and his art—panem et Circem.
18
He who knows not how to plant his will in things, at least endows them with some meaning: that is to say, he believes that a will is already present in them. (A principle of faith.)
19
What? Ye chose virtue and the heaving breast, and at the same time ye squint covetously at the advantages of the unscrupulous.—But with virtue ye renounce all “advantages” ... (to be nailed to an Antisemite’s door).
20
The perfect woman perpetrates literature as if it were a petty vice: as an experiment, en passant, and looking about her all the while to see whether anybody is noticing her, hoping that somebody is noticing her.
21
One should adopt only those situations in which one is in no need of sham virtues, but rather, like the tight-rope dancer on his tight rope, in which one must either fall or stand—or escape.