With respect to ingenious subconsciousness, I think, philosophers might well rival poets.

True love should be, according to its origin, entirely arbitrary and entirely accidental at the same time; it should seem both necessary and free; in keeping with its nature, however, it should be both destiny and virtue and appear as a mystery and a miracle.

Most thoughts are only profiles of thoughts. They must be inverted and synthesized with their antipodes. Thus many philosophical writings become very interesting which would not have been so otherwise.

One has only as much morality as one has philosophy and poetry.

Since poetry is infinitely valuable, I do not understand why it should be more valuable than this or that which is also infinitelyvaluable. There are artists who perhaps do not think art to be too great, for this is impossible, and yet they are not free enough to be able to rise above their own best accomplishments.

There are writers in Germany who drink the Absolute like water; and there are books in which even the dogs make references to the Infinite.

Like Leibniz's possible worlds, most men are only equally entitled pretenders to existence. There are few existences.