“There are three lessons I would write-Three words, as with a burning pen, In tracings of eternal light,Upon the heart of men.Have hope! though clouds environ round,And gladness hides her face in scorn,Put thou the shadow from thy brow,No night but hath its morn.Have love! not love alone for one, But man as man thy brother call,And scatter like the circling sun,Thy charities on all.”

“Keep true to the dreams of thy youth.”

“When the Creator banished from his sightFrail man to dark mortality's abode,And granted him a late return to light,Only by treading reason's arduous road,—When each immortal turned his face away,She, the compassionate, aloneTook up her dwelling in that house of clay,With the deserted, banished one.With drooping wing she hovers hereAround her darling, near the senses' land,And on his prison-walls so drearElysium paints with fond deceptive hand.While soft humanity still lay at rest,Within her tender arms extended,No flame was stirred by bigots' murderous zest,No guiltless blood on high ascended.The heart that she in gentle fetters binds,Views duty's slavish escort scornfully;Her path of light, though fairer far it winds,Sinks in the sun-track of morality.Those who in her chaste service still remain,No grovelling thought can tempt, no fate affright;The spiritual life, so free from stain,Freedom's sweet birthright, they receive again,Under the mystic sway of holy might.”

“Do I advise you to love thy neighbor? I suggest rather to escape from thy neighbor and to love those who are the farthest away from you. Higher than the love for thy neighbor is the love for the man who is distant and has still to come.”

“Curious,' the Prince continued, after a deep silence, 'is it possible never to have known something, never to have missed it in its absence -- and a few moments later to live in and for that single experience alone? Can a single moment make a man so different from himself? It would be just as impossible for me to return to the joys and wishes of yesterday morning as it would for me to return to the games of childhood, now that I have seen that object, now that her image dwells here -- and I have this living, overpowering feeling within me: from now on you can love nothing other than her, and in this world nothing else will ever have any effect on you.”

“Only through Beauty's morning-gate, dost thou penetrate the land of knowledge.”

“Free, dost thou call thyself? Thy ruling thought would I hear of, and not that thou hast escaped from a yoke.Art thou one ENTITLED to escape from a yoke? Many a one hath cast away his final worth when he hath cast away his servitude.Free from what? What doth that matter to Zarathustra! Clearly, however, shall thine eye show unto me: free FOR WHAT?”