Our destiny often looks like a fruit-tree in winter. Who would think from its pitiable aspect that those rigid boughs, those rough twigs could next spring again be green, bloom, and even bear fruit? Yet we hope it, we know it.
Johann Wolfgang von GoetheTomorrow sees undone, what happens not to-day; Still forward press, nor never tire! The possible, with steadfast trust, Resolve should be by the forelock grasp. Then she will ne'er let go her clasp, And labors on, because she must.
Johann Wolfgang von GoetheThe question "From where does the poet get it?" addresses only the what, nobody learns anything about the how when asking that question.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe