A Lonely Fir-tree Is Standing On A

At Noon I Feel As Though I Could Devour All The Elephants Of Hindostan, And Then Pick My Teeth With The Spire Of Strasburg Cathedral; In The Evening I Become So Sentimental That I Would Fain Drink Up The Milky Way Without Reflecting How Indigestible I Should Find The Little Fixed Stars, And By Night There Is The Devil Himself Broke Loose In My Head And No Mistake.

All I Really Want Is Enough To Live On, A Little House In The Country... And A Tree In The Garden With Seven Of My Enemies Hanging In It.

No Compass Has Ever Been Invented For The High Seas Of Matrimony.

Lo, Sleep Is Good, Better Is Death--in Sooth The Best Of All Were Never To Be Born.

Where Books Are Burned In The End People Will Be Burned Too.