A Martyr's Disciples Suffer More Than The

We Ought To Fear A Man Who Hates Himself, For We Are At Risk Of Becoming Victims Of His Anger And Revenge. Let Us Then Try To Lure Him Into Self-love.

Reality Is Captured In The Categorical Nets Of Language Only At The Expense Of Fatal Distortion.

It Is Possible That The Production Of Genius Is Reserved To A Limited Period Of Mankind's History.

We Must Remain As Close To The Flowers, The Grass, And The Butterflies As The Child Is Who Is Not Yet So Much Taller Than They Are. We Adults, On The Other Hand, Have Outgrown Them And Have To Lower Ourselves To Stoop Down To Them. It Seems To Me That The Grass Hates Us When We Confess Our Love For It. Whoever Would Partake Of All Good Things Must Understand How To Be Small At Times.

In Bach There Is Still Too Much Crude Christianity, Crude Germanism, Crude Scholasticism; He Stands On The Threshold Of European (modern) Music, But He Looks Back From There To The Middle Ages.