Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.
In this world, who can do a thing, will not; And who would do it, cannot, I perceive: Yet the will's somewhat — somewhat, too, the power — And thus we half-men struggle.
Earth is crammed with heavens.
Silence 'tis awe decrees.
Art remains the one way possible of speaking truth.
Of power does Man possess no particle: Of knowledge-just so much as show that still It ends in ignorance on every side.