The March Of Intellect, Which Licks All

It Is With Art As With Love: How Can A Man Of The World,with All His Distractions, Keep The Inwardness Which An Artist Must Possess If He Hopes To Attain Perfection? That Inwardness Which The Spectator Must Share If He Is To Understand The Work As The Artist Wishes And Hopes... Believe Me, Talents Are Like Virtues; Either You Must Love Them For Their Own Sake Or Renounce Them Altogether. And They Are Only Recognized And Rewarded When We Have Practised Them In Secret, Like A Dangerous Mystery."

I Wish The Stage Were As Narrow As The Wire Of A Tighrope Dancer So That No Incompetent Would Dare Step Upon It.

Truth Is A Torch, But A Huge One, And So It Is Only With Blinking Eyes What We All Of Us Try To Get Past It, In Actual Terror Of Being Burnt.

A Plant Is Like A Self-willed Man, Out Of Whom We Can Obtain All Which We Desire, If We Will Only Treat Him His Own Way.

Wer Fremde Sprachen Nicht Kennt, Weiss Nichts Von Seiner Eigenen.he Who Is Ignorant Of Foreign Languages, Knows Not His Own.