In Love, Jealousy Is The Great Exaggerator.

Everlastingly Chained To A Single Little Fragment Of The Whole, Man Himself Develops Into Nothing But A Fragment; Everlastingly In His Ear The Monotonous Sound Of The Wheel That He Turns, He Never Develops The Harmony Of His Being, And Instead Of Putting The Stamp Of Humanity Upon His Own Nature, He Becomes Nothing More Than The Imprint Of His Occupation Or Of His Specialized Knowledge.

Love Can Sun The Realms Of Night.

The Very Plants Turn With A Joyful Transport To The Light.

An Axe At Home Saves Hiring A Carpenter.

Deeper Meaning Resides In The Fairy Tales Told To Me In My Childhood Than In The Truth That Is Taught By Life.