Spirit (n.) is the life that itself cuts into life: with its own torment it increases its own knowledge.
Spirit's (n.) strength is best measured according to how much of the 'truth' one could still barely endure.
Spirit (n.) in abundance keeps one young but makes one seem older — and worse — than one is, since men read its marks as the scars of much bad experience.
Spirit (n.) that is prevented from changing its opinions ceases to be spirit — as the snake that cannot slough its skin perishes.
Spirit (n.) grows through three metamorphoses: it becomes a camel, the camel a lion, and finally the lion a child.
Spirit (n.) is life that itself cuts into life; by its own agony it increases its own knowledge.
Spirit (n.) is a stomach — and a ruined one recommends death.
Spirit (n.) that is sure of itself speaks softly; it seeks concealment, it keeps people waiting.
Spirit (n.) is after all merely an aspect of metabolism: the tempo of metabolism is strictly proportionate to the mobility or lameness of the spirit's feet.
Spirit (n.) as "something that thinks" is a second-order fiction: first an act is imagined that does not occur, then a subject in which it originates — both the deed and the doer are fictions.
Spirit (n.) in the war against the manly affects means cunning, sorcery, lies — the only weapons of those who possess no physical force.
Spirit (n.) in its entire evolution is perhaps a question of the body: the history of a higher body emerging into our sensibility.
Spirit (n.) as a form of becoming proves the world has no goal and no final state: had it been capable of "being" even for a moment, all becoming and all thinking would long since have ended.