Human, All Too Human.

Sharp And Mild, Dull And Keen, Well Known And Strange, Dirty And Clean, Where Both The Fool And Wise Are Seen: All This Am I, Have Ever Been, - In Me Dove, Snake And Swine Convene!

When We Dream About Those Who Are Long Since Forgotten Or Dead, It Is A Sign That We Have Undergone A Radical Transformation And That The Ground On Which We Live Has Been Completely Dug Up: Then The Dead Rise Up, And Our Antiquity Becomes Modernity.

We Talk So Abstractly About Poetry Because All Of Us Are Usually Bad Poets.

I Go In Solitude, So As Not To Drink Out Of Everybody's Cistern. When I Am Among The Many I Live As The Many Do, And I Do Not Think I Really Think; After A Time It Always Seems As If They Want To Banish Myself From Myself And Rob Me Of My Soul.

I Absolutely Cannot See How One Can Later Make Up For Having Failed To Go To A Good School At The Proper Time. For This Is What Distinguishes The Hard School As A Good School From All Others: That Much Is Demanded; And Sternly Demanded; That The Good, Even The Exceptional, Is Demanded As The Norm; That Praise Is Rare, That Indulgence Is Nonexistent; That Blame Is Apportioned Sharply, Objectively, Without Regard For Talent Or Antecedents. What Does One Learn In A Hard School? Obeying And Commanding.