If the Sun and Moon should ever doubt, they'd immediately go out.
Why stand we here trembling around, calling on God for help, and not ourselves, in whom God dwells?
thus men forgot that all deities reside in the human breast.
Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.
To cast aside from Poetry, all that is not Inspiration
Nature in darkness groans and men are bound to sullen contemplation in the night: restless they turn on beds of sorrow; in their inmost brain feeling the crushing wheels, they rise, they write the bitter words of stern philosophy and knead the bread of knowledge with tears and groans.