Wherever Books Are Burned, Human Beings Are

We Know Only That Our Entire Existence Is Forced Into New Paths And Disrupted, That New Circumstances, New Joys And New Sorrows Await Us, And That The Unknown Has Its Uncanny Attractions, Alluring And At The Same Time Anguishing.

The Men Of Action Are, After All, Only The Unconscious Instruments Of The Men Of Thought.

Pretty Women Without Religion Are Like Flowers Without Perfume.

The Men Of The Past Had Convictions, While We Moderns Have Only Opinions.

Like A Great Poet, Nature Produces The Greatest Results With The Simplest Means. These Are Simply A Sun, Trees, Flowers, Water And Love. Of Course, If The Spectator Be Without The Last, The Whole Will Present But A Pitiful Appearance, And In That Case, The Sun Is Merely So Many Miles In Diameter, The Trees Are Good For Fuel, The Flowers Are Classified By Stamens, And The Water Is Simply Wet.