I speak with the Eternal through the instrument of nature, through the world's history: I read the soul of the artist in his Apollo.
Accursed be he who plays with the devil.
Vast, colossal destiny, which raises man to fame, though it may also grind him to powder!
Arrow-swift the present sweepeth, and motionless forever stands the past.
Against stupidity the very gods themselves contend in vain.
The world is ruled only by consideration of advantages.