Pity, but never love bestows kind words upon the slave.

No one will stop to help you when you are in need, but everyone forces opinions upon you that you do not require.

This searching and doubting and vacillating where nothing is clear but the arrogance of quest. I, too, had such noble ideas when I was still a boy.

Dilettantes appreciate the work, professors the master at the same time.

Do you think that it is possible to have a mere taste of commonness? Either one hates it or makes common cause with it.

At certain times, men regard poetry merely as a bright flame, but to women it was, and always will be, a warm fire.

Schiller moves upward. Goethe comes from up above.