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There are various eyes. Even the Sphinx has eyes: and as a result there are various truths, and as a result there is no truth.
Art is not merely an imitation of the reality of nature, but in truth a metaphysical supplement to the reality of nature, placed alongside thereof for its conquest.
One may sometimes tell a lie, but the grimace that accompanies it tells the truth.
We have art in order not to die of the truth.
We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.
Nothing is beautiful, only man: on this piece of naivete rests all aesthetics, it is the first truth of aesthetics. Let us immediately add its second: nothing is ugly but degenerate man – the domain of aesthetic judgment is therewith defined.
All things are subject to interpretation whichever interpretation prevails at a given time is a function of power and not truth.
And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh.
All credibility, all good conscience, all evidence of truth come only from the senses.
On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow.