Tragedy sits in sublime rapture amidst this abundance of life, suffering and delight, listening to a far-off, melancholy song which tells of the Mothers of Being, whose names are Delusion, Will, Woe.

Perhaps I know best why it is man alone who laughs; he alone suffers so deeply that he had to invent laughter.

But not to perish from internal distress and doubt when one inflicts great suffering and hears the cry of suffering: that is great, that belongs to greatness.

Whoever, at any time, has undertaken to build a new heaven has found the strength for it in his own hell.

The discipline of suffering, of great suffering- do you not know that only this discipline has created all enhancements of man so far? That tension of the soul in unhappiness which cultivates its strength, its shudders face to face with great ruin, its inventiveness and courage in enduring, preserving, interpreting, and exploiting suffering, and whatever has been granted to it of profundity, secret, mask, spirit, cunning, greatness - was it not granted to it through suffering, through the discipline of great suffering?

He divines remedies against injuries; he knows how to turn serious accidents to his own advantage.