Bees sip honey from flowers and hum their thanks when they leave. The gaudy butterfly is sure that the flowers owe thanks to him.

For man is by nature an artist.

Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music, my master!

There is no "next" after you are dead and gone from your own world.

O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with music.

when you came you cried and everybody smiled with joy; when you go smile and let the world cry for you.

Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action-Into that heaven of freedom, my father, let my country awake.