When One Is Polite In German, One

Forget Not That The Man Who Cannot Enjoy His Own Natural Gifts In Silence, And Find His Reward In The Exercise Of Them, Will Generally Find Himself Badly Off.

Must It Ever Be Thus-that The Source Of Our Happiness Must Also Be The Fountain Of Our Misery? The Full And Ardent Sentiment Which Animated My Heart With The Love Of Nature, Overwhelming Me With A Torrent Of Delight, And Which Brought All Paradise Before Me, Has Now Become An Insupportable Torment, A Demon Which Perpetually Pursues And Harrasses Me.

What Am I Then...? Everything That I Have Seen, Heard, And Observed I Have Collected And Exploited. My Works Have Been Nourished By Countless Different Individuals, By Innocent And Wise Ones, People Of Intelligence And Dunces. Childhood, Maturity And Old Age All Have Brought Me Their Thoughts....their Perspectives On Life. I Have Often Reaped What Others Have Sowed. My Work Is The Work Of A Collective Being That Bears The Name Goethe.

The World Is So Empty If One Thinks Only Of Mountains, Rivers And Cities; But To Know Someone Who Thinks And Feels With Us, And Who, Though Distant, Is Close To Us In Spirit, This Makes The Earth For Us An Inhabited Garden.

There Is Strong Shadow Where There Is Much Light.