_Differences in the Dangerousness of Life._—You don't know at all what you experience; you run through life as if intoxicated, and now and then fall down a stair. Thanks however to your intoxication you still do not break your limbs: your muscles are too languid and your head too confused to find the stones of the staircase as hard as we others do! For us life is a greater danger: we are made of glass—alas, if we should _strike against_ anything! And all is lost if we should _fall_! 155. _What we Lack._—We love the _grandeur_ of Nature and have discovered it; that is because human grandeur is lacking in our minds. It was the reverse with the Greeks: their feeling towards Nature was quite different from ours. 156. _The most Influential Person._—The fact that a person resists the whole spirit of his age, stops it at the door, and calls it to account, _must_ exert an influence! It is indifferent whether he wishes to exert an influence; the point is that he _can_. 157. _Mentiri._—Take care!—he reflects: he will have a lie ready immediately. This is a stage in the civilisation of whole nations. Consider only what the Romans expressed by _mentiri_! 158. _An Inconvenient Peculiarity._—To find everything deep is an inconvenient peculiarity: it makes one constantly strain one's eyes, so that in the end one always finds more than one wishes. 159. _Every Virtue has its Time._—The honesty of him who is at present inflexible often causes him remorse; for inflexibility is the virtue of a time different from that in which honesty prevails. 160. _In Intercourse with Virtues._—One can also be undignified and flattering towards a virtue. 161. _To the Admirers of the Age._—The runaway priest and the liberated criminal are continually making grimaces; what they want is a look without a past.—But have you ever seen men who know that their looks reflect the future, and who are so courteous to you, the admirers of the "age," that they assume a look without a future. 162. _Egoism._—Egoism is the _perspective_ law of our sentiment, according to which the near appears large and momentous, while in the distance the magnitude and importance of all things diminish. 163. _After a Great Victory._—The best thing in a great victory is that it deprives the conqueror of the fear of defeat. "Why should I not be worsted for once?" he says to himself, "I am now rich enough to stand it." 164.