God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives; who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves?

But to show you my heart fully, my friends: if there were gods, how could I bear to be not a god! Therefore, there are no gods.

In the absence of any other proof, the thumb alone would convince me of God's existence.

Once spirit was God, then it became man, and now it is even becoming mob.

The abdomen is the reason why man does not readily take himself to be a god.

Only by forgetting that he himself is an artistically creating subject, does man live with any repose, security, and consistency. If but for an instant he could escape from the prison walls of this faith, his self consciousness would be immediately destroyed.