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Quote by Friedrich Nietzsche
We operate with nothing but things which do not exist, with lines,

We operate with nothing but things which do not exist, with lines, planes, bodies, atoms, divisible time, divisible space — how should explanation even be possible when we first make everything into an image, into our own image! – Friedrich Nietzsche

Other quotes by Friedrich Nietzsche

There cannot be a God because if there were one, I could not believe that I was not He. – Friedrich Nietzsche

Category:
God
Author
Friedrich Nietzsche
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There is not enough love and goodness in the world to permit giving any of it away to imaginary beings. – Friedrich Nietzsche

Category:
Love
Author
Friedrich Nietzsche
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Other Quotes from
Image
category

For such an advanced civilization as ours to be without images that are adequate to it is as serious a defect as being without memory. – Werner Herzog

Category:
Image

Metaphors are much more tenacious than facts. – Paul De Man

Category:
Image

Logicians may reason about abstractions. But the great mass of men must have images. The strong tendency of the multitude in all ages and nations to idolatry can be explained on no other principle. – Thomas Babington Macaulay

Category:
Image

The Image is more than an idea. It is a vortex or cluster of fused ideas and is endowed with energy. – Ezra Pound

Category:
Image

Random Quotes

The test of ones behavior pattern; relationship to society, relationship to ones work, relationship to sex. – Alfred Adler

Category:
Manners

But does that mean that war and violence are inevitable? I would argue not because we have also evolved this amazingly sophisticated intellect, and we are capable of controlling our innate behavior a lot of the time. – Jane Goodall

Category:
War

All the sudden high-impact stress can really take a toll on your body. So if you still want to be active and get in a good workout, go to a yoga class or pilates class, or get in some strength and conditioning. – Sophia Bush

Category:
strength

Death is the king of this world: Tis his park where he breeds life to feed him. Cries of pain are music for his banquet. – George Eliot

Category:
Death