ADVANTAGE FOR OPPONENTS.—A book full of intellect communicates something thereof even to its opponents. 161. YOUTH AND CRITICISM.—To criticise a book means, for the young, not to let oneself be touched by a single productive thought therefrom, and to protect one’s skin with hands and feet. The youngster lives in opposition to all novelty that he cannot love in the lump, in a position of self-defence, and in this connection he commits, as often as he can, a superfluous sin. 162. EFFECT OF QUANTITY.—The greatest paradox in the history of poetic art lies in this: that in all that constitutes the greatness of the old poets a man may be a barbarian, faulty and deformed from top to toe, and still remain the greatest of poets. This is the case with Shakespeare, who, as compared with Sophocles, is like a mine of immeasurable wealth in gold, lead, and rubble, whereas Sophocles is not merely gold, but gold in its noblest form, one that almost makes us forget the money-value of the metal. But quantity in its highest intensity has the same effect as quality. That is a good thing for Shakespeare. 163. ALL BEGINNING IS DANGEROUS.—The Poet can choose whether to raise emotion from one grade to another, and so finally to exalt it to a great height—or to try a surprise attack, and from the start to pull the bell-rope with might and main. Both processes have their danger—in the first case his hearer may run away from him through boredom, in the second through terror. 164. IN FAVOUR OF CRITICS.—Insects sting, not from malice, but because they too want to live. It is the same with our critics—they desire our blood, not our pain. 165. SUCCESS OF APHORISMS.—The inexperienced, when an aphorism at once illuminates their minds with its naked truth, always think that it is old and well known. They look askance at the author, as if he had wanted to steal the common property of all, whereas they enjoy highly spiced half-truths, and give the author to understand as much. He knows how to appreciate the hint, and easily guesses thereby where he has succeeded and failed. 166. THE DESIRE FOR VICTORY.—An artist who exceeds the limit of his strength in all that he undertakes will end by carrying the multitude along with him through the spectacle of violent wrestling that he affords. Success is not always the accompaniment only of victory, but also of the desire for victory. 167. _SIBI SCRIBERE._—The sensible author writes for no other posterity than his own—that is, for his age—so as to be able even then to take pleasure in himself. 168. PRAISE OF THE APHORISM.—A good aphorism is too hard for the tooth of time, and is not worn away by all the centuries, although it serves as food for every epoch. Hence it is the greatest paradox in literature, the imperishable in the midst of change, the nourishment which always remains highly valued, as salt does, and never becomes stupid like salt. 169.