The May Of Life Blooms Once And

Friends Show Me What I Can Do, Foes Teach Me What I Should Do.

Appearance Should Never Attain Reality, And If Nature Conquers, Then Must Art Retire.

I Speak With The Eternal Through The Instrument Of Nature, Through The World's History: I Read The Soul Of The Artist In His Apollo.

This Is The Curse Of An Evil Deed, That It Incites And Must Bring Forth More Evil.

Sentimental Poetry Differs From Naive Poetry In That It Relates The Real State At Which The Latter Stops To Ideas And Applies Ideas To That Reality.