On The Genealogy Of Morality Nietzsche นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"I think he would agree with me when I say; you're letting your slave morality cloud your reason." "My what?!" I gaped at him. "I apologize." He blinked. "I thought you'd read Nietzsche." "I have." I frowned and then remembered what he was referring to. "The master slave morality," I gave a huff. "Right, but again, this is a bit extreme for that. Just because I don't want people tortured, it doesn't make me a slave moralist."

“Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not in existence. Take air for example or love." “The fact that you bring up love in every argument says a lot about you.” “There are no absolute truths, Aiden. Only perspectives.” He shot me a doubtful look. “Whose words are those?” “Nietzsche.” “I married a philosopher.” I smoothed the satin of my dress, thinking of the books I had devoured over the last few weeks. “The least I could do before saying ‘I do’ was try to understand how your mind works.” “I don’t have a moral code. That’s the point of my beliefs.”

He is utterly unredeemable and only cares about his scientific explorations, which are totally devoid of, as he would put it, ‘sentimental attachments to a subjective notion of morality’. The Dirt had manifested a concentration camp mass grave straight out of 1940’s Europe from which the herd of zombies had emerged, looking like the animated corpses of concentration camp victims. That was his ‘personal dirt’. That was the Dirt’s judgment on him, whether morality is subjective, as Dr. Schnell veritably preaches, or not. He said more than once that since there is no such thing as objective morality, that the Dirt’s judgments on people were based on the personal sense of morality of whoever sta

Is he really going to die here? “…can you not see that they were written anew time and time again because until now, humanity is still unable to grasp their true meaning? As of now, the subject of morality is nothing more but a shadow of itself–nothing but echoes of the past. So how can you, a life that has barely begun to live have an inkling of an idea upon whose will was it that claims that I am in the wrong?”