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My Youtube algorithm tonight:

Solitary man, you are going the way of the lover: you love yourself and for that reason you despise yourself as only lovers can despise. — Thus Spoke Zarathustra

And be on your guard, too, against the assaults your love makes upon you! The solitary extends his hand too quickly to anyone he meets. — Thus Spoke Zarathustra

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My brother, have you ever known the word ‘contempt’? And the anguish of your justice in being just to those who despise you? You compel many to change their opinion about you; they hold that very much against you. You approached them and yet went on past them: that they will never forgive you. You go above and beyond them: but the higher you climb, the smaller you appear to the eye of envy. And he who flies is hated most of all. — Thus Spoke Zarathustra

I still remember the delightful dawn when I translated this beautiful piece

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Are you a new strength and a new right? A first motion? A self-propelling wheel? Can you also compel stars to revolve about you? Alas, there is so much lusting for eminence! There is so  much convulsion of the ambitious! Show me that you are not one of the lustful or ambitious! Alas, there are so many great ideas that do no more than a bellows: they inflate and make emptier. Do you call yourself free? I want to hear your ruling idea, and not that you have escaped from a yoke. Are you such a man as ought to escape a yoke? There are many who threw off their final worth when they threw off their bondage. Free from what? Zarathustra does not care about that! But your eye should clearly tell me: free for what? Can you furnish yourself with your own good and evil and hang up your own will above yourself as a law? Can you be judge of yourself and avenger of your law? It is terrible to be alone with the judge and avenger of one’s own law. It is to be like a star thrown forth into empty space and into the icy breath of solitude. Today you still suffer from the many, O man set apart: today you still have your courage whole and your hopes. But one day solitude will make you weary, one day your pride will bend and your courage break. One day you will cry: ‘I am alone!’ One day you will no longer see what is exalted in you; and what is base in you, you will see all too closely; your sublimity itself will make you afraid, as if it were a phantom. One day you will cry: ‘Everything is false!’ There are emotions that seek to kill the solitary; if they do not succeed, well, they must die themselves! But are you capable of being a murderer? — Thus Spoke Zarathustra

When life becomes maddeningly polite, think about me. Think about me, Will. Don't worry about me. — Hannibal

فَتاةٌ تَساوى عِقدُها وَكَلامُها وَمَبسِمُها الدُرِّيُّ في الحُسنِ وَالنَظمِ جَفَتني كَأَنّي لَستُ أَنطَقَ قَومِها وَأَطعَنَهُم وَالشُهبُ في صورَةِ الدُهمِ يُحاذِرُني حَتفي كَأَنِّيَ حَتفُهُ وَتَنكُزُني الأَفعى فَيَقتُلُها سُمّي — أبو الطيب المتنبي

وَأَبصَرَ مِن زَرقاءِ جَوٍّ لِأَنَّني إِذا نَظَرَت عَينايَ ساواهُما عِلمي كَأَنّي دَحَوتُ الأَرضَ مِن خِبرَتي بِها كَأَنّي بَنى الإِسكَندَرُ السَدَّ مِن عَزمي — أبو الطيب المتنبي

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Lilly Martin Spencer, Domestic Happiness, 1849, oil on canvas, 140.3 × 116.2 cm, Detroit Institute of Art

— The Sense of an Ending