The European philosophy is, everywhere I've heard of it, that there is still a common practice almost at the end.
(Except here: But that is explained later.)
Wisdom is the so-called contemporary philosophers too burdensome as an object become dangerous even as an unruly beast.
Sneak at best, if that is well paid and brings honor to them, rather than that they want only can pet at least once.
You ergeust in relativism, are also like the Patriots (if the war will be lost, you do it like that Benn and mocks the last soldier), itself is its own geistesverwilderte daycare.
You will simply Meanwhile his own insignificance as interchangeable, docile, cheap whore not perceive.
Because that would result in at least a piece of self-knowledge.
And that would be, if not directly, then indirectly, because you off there'd be lying deliberately against all the others, rather than just against itself, which is much more difficult, fatal in the professional sense.
So you look at ducks, since one is anyway not a philosopher (more) not even to a certain extent, even under those last spirit valances that are traded as a great philosopher, because they are welcome warmongers.
You do not even kiss more feet, it is vying to be allowed to kiss her, maybe slime, bombastic, kriechicht is even still in high spirits when the Scraped finish brings darzuweisen as still incorporated trophy under the toenails of the rulers somewhere.
Everything is somehow, somewhere, and anyway and actually very important, as it is nothing.
No, folks, here it's different, and I declare now, as promised, why.
Here lives not only the spirit of Nietzsche, but I certainly at that.
And as he said at the time that he would not even be his coachman the young German Emperor, I could wash my feet from our old German president not even.
We genuine philosophers slime and not crawl, because that is the worm.
We climb mountains, the others do not see on their fog.
We love all things beautiful, and therefore we have no need of your baubles.
The finding our happiness, we find the same a piece of driftwood on the beach.
And yet each wave washes us for more new ideas.
We are the true heritage of mankind.
Oh - like the one that is not it have something to learn? Our scoff at all?
Or many, all?
That means us only a brief review. After back there, where the hovels of the noisy ones are.
And the very front, at the Cape, there sits an old sailor, whom we. Zween of beers that we precautionary measure it, one issue still roll a cigarette to tells us about his trips to Havana and Murmansk
Listening to the and to laugh with him, is our luck again.
And we return from the shore, after an overnight fire fortunes, alone, already the third, which gave us, and know that we can only find more of it.
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