Not He Who Scorns The Saviour's Yoke

The Voice Of Our Age Seems By No Means Favorable To Art, At All Events To That Kind Of Art To Which My Inquiry Is Directed. The Course Of Events Has Given A Direction To The Genius Of The Time That Threatens To Remove It Continually Further From The Ideal Of Art. For Art Has To Leave Reality, It Has To Raise Itself Bodily Above Necessity And Neediness; For Art Is The Daughter Of Freedom, And It Requires Its Prescriptions And Rules To Be Furnished By The Necessity Of Spirits And Not By That Of Matter.

The Iron Chain And The Silken Cord Are Both Equally Bonds.

The World's History Is The World's Judgment.

Individual Character Is In The Right That Is In Strict Consistence With Itself. Self-contradiction Is The Only Wrong.

Day's Lustrous Eyes Grow Heavy In Sweet Death.