The Will (n.) is not purely our own. Our reason, thoughts, morality, etc., are all just expressions of different drives battling it out against one another.
Will (n.) is not something that one 'has': A will is, essentially, what one is. A bird of prey that kills a lamb, for example is its will, and that will wills the death of the lamb. To say it should not kill the lamb is to say it should be a different animal.
The Will (n.) is not something that one has, but rather, what one is. The will is that which in active, successful natures act not on the idea of 'know thy self' but on the notion: 'Will a self and thou shalt become a self'.
Will (n.) is such that, when pure will, it is without the troubles and complexities of intellect.
The Will (n.) wants to affirm its difference. The feeling of difference, i.e. Hierarchy, is the motor of the concept which is deeper than all thought about hegelian contradiction.
Will (n.) is the agent of all change in the universe.
The Will (n.) is ultimately only the will of another, or of several other, emotions.
Will (n.) is voracious and always finds an illusion to spread over things that keeps its creatures alive and drives them on.
Will (n.) longs to be heard — if the philosopher says one will thirsts for existence in animate and inanimate nature, the musician adds: and this will wants at every stage an existence in sound.
The Will (n.) is ashamed of the intellect: at the moment of action we feel shame at the coldness of our rational plans and do the irrational out of defiant magnanimity.
Will (n.) is the invulnerable, unburiable thing in me that explodes boulders and strides unchanged through the years.
Will (n.) is a creator: every "it was" is a fragment, a riddle, a grisly accident — until the creating will says "but I willed it thus! I shall will it thus!"
Will (n.) belongs to a few; most are merely willed.
Will (n.) has a horror of the vacuum: it needs a goal, and it will rather will nothingness than not will.
Will (n.) is measured by how much resistance, pain and torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage.
The Will (n.) is an inner tyrant that develops only under outer tyranny: artists no longer tyrannized by church or court no longer learn to grow one, and perish from lack of inner discipline.
Will (n.) does not exist; yet the belief in substance and attribute draws its force from regarding all our deeds as consequences of our will.
Will (n.) as an act is, like pleasure and ideas, only a hint from a hidden directing committee on which the chief desires cast their votes.
Will (n.) does not exist, so neither does a strong or weak one: a "weak will" is a crowd of impulses without order, a "strong will" their coordination under one predominant impulse.
Will (n.) is precisely what treats cravings as their master and appoints them their way and measure — Schopenhauer mistook craving for its essence.