Philosophy (n.) is a monster with many heads, each speaking a different language.
Philosophy (n.) even when true would be accepted by nine-tenths of mankind on authority alone — and so become belief again.
Philosophy (n.) that is chained up promises marvels with solemn gravity when we all know beforehand the short meaning of the long speech.
Philosophy (n.) in the Germany of Hegel stands like the prostitute who sells herself for sordid hire, today to one and tomorrow to another.
Philosophy (n.) does not ask whence or wherefore the world exists, but only what it is — the "why" already belongs to the world.
Philosophy (n.) is born of a limitation: each of us can be only one thing, yet can know all things.
Philosophy (n.) is a field limited in its scope to the repetition and expression of the inner nature of the world in very general concepts.
Philosophy (n.) when honest and appearing among the professors is a knight in real armour among stage-knights in pasteboard, making the boards creak under his tread.
Philosophy (n.) worthy of the name is pure service of truth, the most sublime of human endeavours — and as such not adapted for a trade.
Philosophy (n.) ought to be dealt with only as an end, never as a means — a corollary Kant did not think it necessary to state.
Philosophy (n.) at the university sets forth the chief truths of the Catechism under the veil of abstruse wearisome formulas, and is the enemy of all genuine philosophy.
Philosophy (n.) begins where science ends: what the sciences take for granted as the ground of their explanations is exactly its problem.
Philosophy (n.) in the hands of the professors talks of nothing but God — as if it were theology, seeking enlightenment about God rather than about the universe.
Philosophy (n.) once it pays a salary sings the song of the one whose bread it eats, which is why the ancients took making money from it as the mark of a sophist.
Philosophy (n.) has many thyrsus-bearers but few true Bacchants; the chosen public of real philosophers is so small that the centuries bring them only scantily.
Philosophy (n.) attracts by the laws of affinity a public fitted to it — so there is always a lesser metaphysics for educated plebeians and a higher one for the élite.
Philosophy (n.) at the university is the handmaid of theology in disguise: scholasticism at least admitted it, while today's disclaims the connection and serves just the same.
Philosophy (n.) when it is serious has outgrown the universities, where science stands under state guardianship, and one day it may be counted among the occult sciences.
Philosophy (n.) can only make abstract what every man already knows intuitively; it neither ought nor is able to do more — saints of every creed lived the same truth under quite different dogmas.