Wisdom's (n.) growth may be gauged exactly by the diminution of ill-temper.
Wisdom (n.) is the whispering of the sage to himself in a crowded marketplace.
Wisdom (n.) is a crime against nature: whoever solves the sphinx's riddle must also kill his father and marry his mother — the spear point of knowledge turns on the wise.
Wisdom (n.) has less future than an unwisdom with more life in it — grant the suprahistorical outlook more wisdom, provided we possess more life.
Wisdom (n.) is the whispering of the solitary to himself in the crowded marketplace.
Wisdom (n.) grows in exact proportion to the decline in bile.
Wisdom (n.) is loved because she reminds us so much of life — same eyes, same laugh, same little golden fishing rod.
Wisdom (n.) that says "all is vain" is honored only because it smells old and musty — even mustiness ennobles.
Wisdom (n.) may appear on earth as a raven, drawn by a little scent of carrion.
Wisdom (n.) as the attempt to get beyond perspective valuations, beyond the will to power, is a principle hostile to life, a weakening of the power of appropriation.
Wisdom (n.) belongs most to the man richest in contradictions, with antennae for every type of man — and with his great moments of grand harmony, a sort of planetary motion.