Like A Great Poet, Nature Knows How

God Will Forgive Me The Foolish Remarks I Have Made About Him Just As I Will Forgive My Opponents The Foolish Things They Have Written About Me, Even Though They Are Spiritually As Inferior To Me As I To Thee, O God!

A Lonely Fir-tree Is Standing On A Northern Barren Height; It Sleeps, And The Ice And Snow-drift Cast Round It A Garment Of White.

He Only Profits From Praise Who Values Criticism.

The Sea Appears All Golden. Beneath The Sun-lit Sky.

Whenever Books Are Burned, Men Also In The End Are Burned.