Our souls must become expanded by the contemplation of Nature's grandeur, before we can fully comprehend the greatness of man.

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

God will forgive me. It's his job." Heine said this on his deathbed (1856). Hilarious. He must have thought that up years before and counted the seconds to use it.

The swan, like the soul of the poet, By the dull world is ill understood.

Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid

Nothing is sillier than this charge of plagiarism. There is no sixth commandment in art. The poet dare help himself wherever he lists, wherever he finds material suited to his work. He may even appropriate entire columns with their carved capitals, if the temple he thus supports be a beautiful one. Goethe understood this very well, and so did Shakespeare before him.

You talk of our having an idea; we do not have an idea. The idea has us, and martyrs us, and scourges us, and drives us into the arena to fight and die for it, whether we want to or not.