Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Johann WolfgangGoethetə/; German: ; 28 August 1749 – 22 March 1832) was a German writer and statesman. His body of work includes epic and lyric poetry written in a variety of metres and styles; prose and verse dramas; memoirs; an autobiography; literary and aesthetic criticism; treatises on botany, anatomy, and colour; and four novels. In addition, numerous literary and scientific fragments, more than 10,000 letters, and nearly 3,000 drawings by him exist...
NationalityGerman
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth28 August 1749
CountryGermany
Alas, that we should be so unwilling to listen to the still and holy yearnings of the heart! A god whispers quite softly in our breast, softly yet audibly; telling us what we ought to seek and what to shun.
Man cannot persist long in a conscious state, he must throw himself back into the unconscious, for his root lives there.
The miller imagines that the corn grows only to make his mill turn.
No wonder we are all more or less pleased with mediocrity, since it leaves us at rest, and gives the same comfortable feeling as when one associates with his equals.
Man believes himself always greater than he is, and is esteemed less than he is worth.
A school of art or of anything else is to be looked on as a single individual, who keeps talking to himself for a hundred years, and feels an extreme satisfaction with his own circle of favorite ideas, be they ever so silly.
What in us the women leave uncultivated, children cultivate when we retain them near us.
We should treat children as God does us, who makes us happiest when He leaves us under the influence of innocent delusions.
In praising or loving a child, we love and praise not that which is, but that which we hope for.
It is in the half fools and the half wise that the greatest danger lies.
You'll never attain it unless you know the feeling.
Thou must (in commanding and winning, or serving and losing, suffering or triumphing) be either anvil or hammer.
Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given; The dearest child of Faith is Miracle.
The Evil One has left, the evil ones remain.