I Do Not Lack The Courage To

What Is A Poet? An Unhappy Man Who Hides Deep Anguish In His Heart, But Whose Lips Are So Formed That When The Sigh And Cry Pass Through Them, It Sounds Like Lovely Music.... And People Flock Around The Poet And Say: 'sing Again Soon' - That Is, 'may New Sufferings Torment Your Soul But Your Lips Be Fashioned As Before, For The Cry Would Only Frighten Us, But The Music, That Is Blissful.

Boredom Is The Root Of All Evil - The Despairing Refusal To Be Oneself.

The Tyrant Dies And His Rule Is Over, The Martyr Dies And His Rule Begins.

Without Risk, Faith Is An Impossibility.

All Essential Knowledge Relates To Existence, Or Only Such Knowledge As Has An Essential Relationship To Existence Is Essential Knowledge.