The Swan, Like The Soul

He Who Fears To Venture As Far As His Heart Urges And His Reason Permits, Is A Coward; He Who Ventures Further Than He Intended To Go, Is A Slave.

Out Of My Great Sorrows, I Make Little Songs.

The Spring's Already At The Gate With Looks My Care Beguiling; The Country Round Appeareth Straight A Flower-garden Smiling.

This Was But A Prelude; Where Books Are Burnt Human-beings Will Be Burnt In The End

Ich Glaube Sogar, Durch Leidensk A« Mpfe K O« Nnten Dietiere Zu Menschen Werden. I Believe That By Suffering Even Animals Could Be Made Human.