Experience (n.) is impossible and inconceivable without passions.
Experience (n.) is that which, when accumulated, will always prevent us from seeing reality 'as it is'.
Experience (n.) divides mankind into the minimality who make much of little and the majority who make little of much — inverted sorcerers who create nothingness out of the world.
Experience (n.) is too much lived through and too little thought through today — ravenous yet colicky, we grow thinner the more we eat; whoever says 'I have experienced nothing' is an idiot.
Experience (n.) observed while still inside it is disturbed in its absorption — instead of wisdom one acquires indigestion.
Experience (n.) is much more what we put into it than what it already contains — perhaps in itself it contains nothing: to experience is to invent.
Experience (n.) spans only five fingers' breadth, even for great spirits — just beyond it their thinking ceases and endless empty space and stupidity begin.
Experience (n.) is slow for all deep wells: they must wait long before they know what fell into their depth.
Experience (n.) is in the end only of oneself: what could befall me now that is not already my own? It merely comes home.
Experience (n.) that is terrible poses the riddle whether the person who has it is not terrible.
Experience (n.) are the accidental positions we stress as foreground to deceive about our depths — hostels for a night, where the wanderer must beware of settling down.