174.  Ye Utilitarians—­ye, too, love the utile only as a vehicle for your inclinations,—­ye, too, really find the noise of its wheels insupportable!

175.  One loves ultimately one’s desires, not the thing desired.

176.  The vanity of others is only counter to our taste when it is counter to our vanity.

177.  With regard to what “truthfulness” is, perhaps nobody has ever been sufficiently truthful.

178.  One does not believe in the follies of clever men:  what a forfeiture of the rights of man!

179.  The consequences of our actions seize us by the forelock, very indifferent to the fact that we have meanwhile “reformed.”

180.  There is an innocence in lying which is the sign of good faith in a cause.

181.  It is inhuman to bless when one is being cursed.

182.  The familiarity of superiors embitters one, because it may not be returned.

183.  “I am affected, not because you have deceived me, but because I can no longer believe in you.”

184.  There is a haughtiness of kindness which has the appearance of wickedness.

185.  “I dislike him.”—­Why?—­“I am not a match for him.”—­Did any one ever answer so?

CHAPTER V

THE NATURAL HISTORY OF MORALS

186.  The moral sentiment in Europe at present is perhaps as subtle, belated, diverse, sensitive, and refined, as the “Science of Morals” belonging thereto is recent, initial, awkward, and coarse-fingered:—­an interesting contrast, which sometimes becomes incarnate and obvious in the very person of a moralist.  Indeed, the expression, “Science of Morals” is, in respect to what is designated thereby, far too presumptuous and counter to good taste,—­which is always a foretaste of more modest expressions.  One ought to avow with the utmost fairness what is still necessary here for a long time, what is alone proper for the present:  namely, the collection of material, the comprehensive survey and classification of an immense domain of delicate sentiments of worth, and distinctions of worth, which live, grow, propagate, and perish—­and perhaps attempts to give a clear idea of the recurring and more common forms of these living crystallizations—­as preparation for a theory of types of morality.  To be sure, people have not hitherto been so modest.  All the philosophers, with a pedantic and ridiculous seriousness, demanded of themselves something very much higher, more pretentious, and ceremonious, when they concerned themselves with morality as a science:  they wanted to give A Basic to morality—­ and every philosopher hitherto has believed that he has given it a basis; morality itself, however, has been regarded as something “given.”  How far from their awkward pride was the seemingly insignificant problem—­left in dust and decay—­of