“It’s only human,” you cry in defense of any depravity, reaching the stage of
self-abasement where you seek to make the concept “human” mean the weakling,
the fool, the rotter, the liar, the failure, the coward, the fraud, and to
exile from the human race the hero, the thinker, the producer, the inventor,
the strong, the purposeful, the pure—as if “to feel” were human, but to think
were not, as if to fail were human, but to succeed were not, as if corruption
were human, but virtue were not—as if the premise of death were proper to
man, but the premise of life were not.