Music played at weddings always reminds me of the music played for soldiers before they go into battle.

Where books are burned in the end people will be burned too.

The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night With comfort are downward gazing.

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

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.

High in the air rises the forest of oaks, high over the oaks soar the eagle, high over the eagle sweep the clouds, high over the clouds gleam the stars... high over the stars sweep the angels.

The devil take these people and their language! They take a dozen monosyllabic words in their jaws, chew them, crunch them and spit them out again, and call that speaking. Fortunately they are by nature fairly silent, and although they gaze at us open-mouthed, they spare us long conversations.