Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.

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

Music is a strange thing. I would almost say it is a miracle.

The foolish race of mankind are swarming below in the night; they shriek and rage and quarrel - and all of them are right.

The butterfly long loved the beautiful rose, And flirted around all day; While round him in turn with her golden caress, Soft fluttered the sun's warm ray.... I know not with whom the rose was in love, But I know that I loved them all. The butterfly, rose, and the sun's bright ray, The star and the bird's sweet call.

The Bible is the great family chronicle of the Jews.

I consider it a degradation and a stain on my honor to submit to baptism in order to qualify myself for state employment in Prussia.