He who knows how to breathe the air of my writings is conscious that it is the air of the heights, a bracing air. A man must be built for it otherwise there is a real chance that one will catch a chill. The ice is near, the loneliness is terrible—but how serenely everything lies in the sunshine! How freely one can breathe! How much one feels lies beneath one! Philosophy, as I have understood it so far is a voluntary living in regions of ice and high mountains—the seeking out of everything strange and questionable in existence, everything which hitherto morality has forbidden. Through long experience of such wanderings in forbidden territory I acquired a very different and perhaps undesirable opinion of the causes of men’s moralizing and idealizing. The secret history of philosophers, the psychology of their great names was revealed to me. How much truth can a spirit endure; how much truth can it dare? This became for me more and more the actual test of value. Error (the belief in the ideal) is not blindness; error is cowardice. Every conquest, every step forward in knowledge is the outcome of courage, of hardness towards one’s self; of cleanliness towards one’s self. I do not refute ideals; I merely put on gloves in their presence. Nitimur in vetitum: under this banner my philosophy will one day be victorious; for that which has hitherto been most strictly forbidden is without exception the Truth.

Isn't this MGTOW AF?