Religion cannot sink lower than when somehow it is raised to a state religion ... It becomes then an avowed mistress.

Round my cradle shimmered the last moonbeams of the eighteenth century and the first morning rays of the nineteenth.

God has given us speech in order that we may say pleasant things to our friends, and tell bitter truths to our enemies.

If one has no heart, one cannot write for the masses.

There, where one burns books... one, in the end, burns men.

Sweet May lies fresh before us, To life the young flowers leap, And through the Heaven's blue o'er us The rosy cloudlets sweep.

The sun's sweet ray is hovering discovered.