The eternal feminine draws us on high.

Mathematics has the completely false reputation of yielding infallible conclusions. Its infallibility is nothing but identity. Two times two is not four, but it is just two times two, and that is what we call four for short. But four is nothing new at all. And thus it goes on and on in its conclusions, except that in the higher formulas the identity fades out of sight.

It would be a lowly art that allowed itself to be understood all at once.

I wait for the morning of my tears

Paternity is based anyhow only upon conviction: I am convinced, therefore, I am the father.

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

All beginnings are delightful; the threshold is the place to pause.