The people who are absent are the ideal; those who are present seem to be quite commonplace.

I have often reaped what others have sowed. My work is the work of a collective being that bears the name Goethe.

Sing it not in mournful numbers.

There is repetition everywhere, and nothing is found only once in the world.

People will allow their faults to be shown them; they will let themselves be punished for them; they will patiently endure many things because of them; they only become impatient when they have to lay them aside.

Very few people love others for what they are; rather, they love what they lend them, their own selves, their own idea of them.

Every reader, if he has a strong mind, reads himself into the book, and amalgamates his thoughts with those of the author.