It seems to me that the soul, when alone with itself and speaking to itself, uses only a small number of words, none of them extraordinary.

Sometime I think; and sometime I am.

The folly of mistaking oneself for an oracle is built right into us.

The great virtues of the German people have created more evils than idleness ever did vices

Poems are never finished - just abandoned

We need to wake up from a thought that lasts too long.

Let us enrich ourselves with our mutual differences.