Beauty Does Not Bring Happiness To The

Only Within Yourself Exists That Other Reality For Which You Long.

Madness, In A Higher Sense, Is The Beginning Of All Wisdom

I Do Want More. I Am Not Content With Being Happy. I Was Not Made For It. It Is Not My Destiny. My Destiny Is The Opposite.

Art Is The Contemplation Of The World In A State Of Grace.

All The Books Of The World Full Of Thoughts And Poems Are Nothing In Comparison To A Minute Of Sobbing, When Feeling Surges In Waves, The Soul Feels Itself Profoundly And Finds Itself. Tears Are The Melting Ice Of Snow. All Angels Are Close To The Crying Person.