No Artist Tolerates Reality.

Everything Goes, Everything Comes Back; Eternally Rolls The Wheel Of Being. Everything Dies, Everything Blossoms Again; Eternally Runs The Year Of Being. Everything Breaks, Everything Is Joined Anew; Eternally The Same House Of Being Is Built. Everything Parts, Everything Greets Every Other Thing Again; Eternally The Ring Of Being Remains Faithful To Itself. In Every Now, Being Begins; Round Every Here Rolls The Sphere There. The Center Is Everywhere. Bent Is The Path Of Eternity.

I Enquire Now As To The Genesis Of A Philologist And Assert The Following: 1. A Young Man Cannot Possibly Know What Greeks And Romans Are. 2. He Does Not Know Whether He Is Suited For Finding Out About Them.

Humility Has The Toughest Hide.

Body Am I Entirely, And Nothing Else; And Soul Is Only A Word For Something About The Body.

If We Lacked Curiosity, We Should Do Less For The Good Of Our Neighbor. But, Under The Name Of Duty Or Pity, Curiosity Steals Into The Home Of The Unhappy And The Needy. Perhaps Even In The Famous Mother-love There Is A Good Deal Of Curiosity.