Friedrich Nietzsche was a pale, crabby hermit who sat in a cheap Swiss boarding house peering beyond good and evil and demanding, at the top of his apocalyptic voice, the rearing of a daemonically driven breed of superman. Just when the world began to get wind of his prophetic fulminations, he went mad. For the last tragic eleven years of his life, he was a myth—and so he has remained. Out of that myth Hitler's propaganda made him the philosopher of Naziism in World War II.
Last week the talk of literary Germany...
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