A thirsty ambition for truth and virtue, and a frenzy to conquer all lies and vices which are not recognized as such nor desire to be; herein consists the heroic spirit of the philosopher.
Indeed, if a chief question does remain: how is the power to think possible? - The power to think right and left, before and without, with and above experience? then it does not take a deduction to prove the genealogical priority of language.
Every phenomenon of nature was a word, - the sign, symbol and pledge of a new, mysterious, inexpressible but all the more intimate union, participation and community of divine energies and ideas.
Nature is a book, a letter, a fairy tale (in the philosophical sense) or whatever you want to call it.
Physics is nothing but the ABC's. Nature is an equation with an unknown, a Hebrew word which is written only with consonants to which reason has to add the dots.
The thirst for vengeance was the beautiful nature which Homer imitated.
If only I was as eloquent as Demosthenes, I would have to do no more than repeat a single word three times.
What good to me is the festive garment of freedom when I am in a slave's smock at home?
Self knowledge begins with the neighbor, the mirror, and just the same with true self-love; that goes from the mirror to the matter.
Thus the public use of reason and freedom is nothing but a dessert, a sumptuous dessert.
Not only the entire ability to think rests on language... but language is also the crux of the misunderstanding of reason with itself.
All human wisdom works and has worries and grief as reward.
Poetry is the mother-tongue of the human race.
Being, belief and reason are pure relations, which cannot be dealt with absolutely, and are not things but pure scholastic concepts, signs for understanding, not for worshipping, aids to awaken our attention, not to fetter it.
A writer who is in a hurry to be understood today or tomorrow runs the danger of being misunderstood the day after tomorrow.