That we are nothing but phenomena as opposed to the thing-in-itself is confirmed, exemplified, and made clear by the fact that the conditio sine qua non of our existence is a continual flowing off and flowing to of matter which, as nourishment, is a constant need.  So that we resemble such phenomena as smoke, fire, or a jet of water, all of which die out or stop directly there is no supply of matter.  It may be said then that the will to live presents itself in the form of pure phenomena which end in nothing.  This nothingness, however, together with the phenomena, remain within the boundary of the will to live and are based on it.  I admit that this is somewhat obscure.

If we try to get a general view of humanity at a glance, we shall see everywhere a constant fighting and mighty struggling for life and existence; that mental and bodily strength is taxed to the utmost, and opposed by threatening and actual dangers and woes of every kind.

And if we consider the price that is paid for all this, existence, and life itself, it will be found that there has been an interval when existence was free from pain, an interval, however, which was immediately followed by boredom, and which in its turn was quickly terminated by fresh cravings.

That boredom is immediately followed by fresh needs is a fact which is also true of the cleverer order of animals, because life has no true and genuine value in itself, but is kept in motion merely through the medium of needs and illusion.  As soon as there are no needs and illusion we become conscious of the absolute barrenness and emptiness of existence.

If one turns from contemplating the course of the world at large, and in particular from the ephemeral and mock existence of men as they follow each other in rapid succession, to the detail of life, how like a comedy it seems!

It impresses us in the same way as a drop of water, crowded with infusoria, seen through a microscope, or a little heap of cheese-mites that would otherwise be invisible.  Their activity and struggling with each other in such little space amuse us greatly.  And it is the same in the little span of life—­great and earnest activity produces a comic effect.

No man has ever felt perfectly happy in the present; if he had it would have intoxicated him.

ON WOMEN.

These few words of Jouy, Sans les femmes le commencement de notre vie seroit prive de secours, le milieu de plaisirs et la fin de consolation, more exactly express, in my opinion, the true praise of woman than Schiller’s poem, Wuerde der Frauen, which is the fruit of much careful thought and impressive because of its antithesis and use of contrast.  The same thing is more pathetically expressed by Byron in Sardanapalus, Act i, Sc. 2:—­