We Know Accurately Only When We Know

Just As, Out Of Habit, One Consults A Run-down Clock As Though It Were Still Going, So Too One May Look At The Face Of A Beautiful Woman As Though He Still Loved Her.

So Dear Night The Half Of Life Is, And The Fairest Half Indeed.

The Theater Has Often Been At Variance With The Pulpit; They Ought Not To Quarrel. How Much Is It To Be Wished That In Both The Celebration Of Nature And Of God Were Intrusted To None But Men Of Noble Minds.

The Misfortune In The State Is, That Nobody Can Enjoy Life In Peace, But That Everybody Must Govern; And In Art, That Nobody Will Enjoy What Has Been Produced, But That Every One Wants To Reproduce On His Own Account.

Nothing Tells More About The Character Of A Man Than The Things He Makes Fun Of.