Normally, People Believe That, If They Hear

Since I Have Heard Often Enough That Everyone In The End Has His Own Religion, Nothing Seemed More Natural To Me Than To Fashion My Own.

Mysterious In The Light Of Day, Nature Retains Her Veil, Despite Our Clamours: That Which She Does Not Willingly Display Cannot Be Wrenched From Her With Levers, Screws And Hammers.

And Future Deeds Crowded Round Us As The Countless Stars In The Night. [ger., Und Kunftige Thaten Drangen Wie Die Sterne Rings Um Uns Her Unzahlig Aus Der Nacht.]

A School Of Art Or Of Anything Else Is To Be Looked On As A Single Individual, Who Keeps Talking To Himself For A Hundred Years, And Feels An Extreme Satisfaction With His Own Circle Of Favorite Ideas, Be They Ever So Silly.

What Is The Path? There Is No Path. On Into The Unknown.