"What's that? Everything is only-human,all too human?" With such a sigh one comes from my writings, they say,with a kind of wariness and distrust even toward morality, indeed tempted andencouraged in no small way to become the spokesman for the worst things: might they perhaps be only the best slandered? My writings have been called a Schoolfor Suspicion, even more for Contempt, fortunately also for Courage and, in fact, for Daring. All of them, I have been told, contain snares and nets for careless birds, andan almost constant, unperceived challenge to reverse one's habitual estimations and esteemed habits. Often enough, and always with great consternation, people have told me that there is something distinctive in all my writings, from The Birth of Tragedy to the most recently published Prologue to a Philosophy of the Future 2.
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