The Philosophers Must Station Themselves

Whatever Is The Lot Of Humankind I Want To Taste Within My Deepest Self. I Want To Seize The Highest And The Lowest, To Load Its Woe And Bliss Upon My Breast, And Thus Expand My Single Self Titanically And In The End Go Down With All The Rest.

I Curse All Negative Purism That Tells Me Not To Use A Word From Another Language That Either Expresses Something That My Own Language Cannot Or Does That In A More Delicate Manner.

The Senses Do Not Deceive Us, But The Judgment Does.

As A Man Is, So Is His God; Therefore God Was So Often An Object Of Mockery. [ger., Wie Einer Ist, So Ist Sein Gott, Darum Ward Gott So Oft Zu Spott.]

The Question "from Where Does The Poet Get It?" Addresses Only The What, Nobody Learns Anything About The How When Asking That Question.