The Saint (n.) the philosopher and the artist are the true men, no longer animal: nature, which never makes a leap, made its one leap of joy in creating them — feeling it had reached its goal, where it learns to unlearn having goals.
A Saint (n.) one in whom the ego has melted away, whose suffering is felt not as his own but as oneness with all living things: the miracle the game of becoming never hits upon, the final becoming-human.
A Saint (n.) as judge of existence — the vision of a supraterrestrial court in which all life, even the most perfect, is weighed and found wanting; all Schopenhauer's learning was only colouring for it.
The Saint (n.) visions and raptures are familiar pathological conditions he interprets not as illness — Socrates' daemon was perhaps an ear-infection.
The Saint (n.) makes life easier by surrendering his personality; it is harder, and takes more spirit, to keep one's personality without vacillation or dissimulation.
The Saint (n.) was the last pleasure antiquity invented, after it had grown bored even with animal and human combats: a burning eye in a half-destroyed body to gaze at until the soul convulsed.
The Saint (n.) gets his world-historical value not from what he is but from what he signifies to non-saints — he was mistaken for what he was not, and did not know himself.
The Saint (n.) shadow (n.) grew so monstrous in the evening glow of the world's expected end that even in our age, which no longer believes in God, there are thinkers who believe in the saints.
Saint (n.) are the most sensual men, who have to flee from women and torment their bodies.
A Saint (n.) is bowed to by the powerful because they honor in his self-conquest their own strength — and smell a new power, an as yet unconquered enemy.
A Saint (n.) pleasing to God is the ideal eunuch: life ends where the kingdom of God begins.