If You Wish To Strive For Peace

I Am No Longer A Divine Biped. I Am No Longer The Freest German After Goethe, As Ruge Named Me In Healthier Days. I Am No Longer The Great Hero No. 2, Who Was Compared With The Grape-crowned Dionysius, Whilst My Colleague No. 1 Enjoyed The Title Of A Grand Ducal Weimarian Jupiter. I Am No Longer A Joyous, Somewhat Corpulent Hellenist, Laughing Cheerfully Down Upon The Melancholy Nazarenes. I Am Now A Poor Fatally-ill Jew, An Emaciated Picture Of Woe, An Unhappy Man.

Like A Great Poet, Nature Knows How To Produce The Greatest Effects With The Most Limited Means.

Ordinarily He Was Insane, But He Had Lucid Moments When He Was Merely Stupid

Don't Send A Poet To London.

In Vain Would I Seek To Discover Why Sad And Mournful Am I, My Thoughts Without Ceasing Brood Over A Tale Of The Time Gone By.