An Artist Is He For Whom The

That Which Reminds Us Of Nature And Thus Stimulates A Feeling For The Infinite Abundance Of Life Is Beautiful. Nature Is Organic,and Therefore The Highest Beauty Is Forever Vegetative; And The Same Is True For Morality And Love.

There Is No Self-knowledge But An Historical One. No One Knows What He Himself Is Who Does Not Know His Fellow Men, Especially The Most Prominent One Of The Community, The Master's Master, The Genius Of The Age.

Religion Can Emerge In All Forms Of Feeling: Here Wild Anger, There The Sweetest Pain; Here Consuming Hatred, There The Childlike Smile Of Serene Humility.

If One Believes Philosophers, Then What We Call Religion Is Only A Deliberately Popularized Or An Instinctively Artless Philosophy. Poets Seem To Consider Religion Rather As A Variation Of Poetry Which By Misjudging Its Proper Beautiful Game Takes Itself Too Seriously And One-sidedly. Philosophy, However, Admits And Recognizes That It Can Begin And Complete Itself Only With Religion. Poetry Seeks Only To Strive For The Infinite And Despises Worldly Utility And Culture, Which Are The True Antitheses Of Religion. Eternal Peace Among Artists Is Thus Not Far Away.

What Is Called Good Society Is Usually Nothing But A Mosaic Of Polished Caricatures.