The Auto-biography of Goethe: Truth and Poetry: from My Life, Volumes 3-4

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Wiley and Putnam, 1847 - Authors, German - 421 pages
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Page 127 - Then old age and experience, hand in hand, Lead him to death, and make him understand, After a search so painful and so long, That all his life he had been in the wrong; Huddled in dirt, the reasoning engine lies, Who was so proud, so witty and so wise.
Page 37 - The highest problem of every art is, by means of appearances, to produce the illusion of a loftier reality.
Page 129 - To griefs congenial prone, More wounds than nature gave he knew, While misery's form his fancy drew In dark ideal hues, and horrors not its own.
Page 107 - He thought he could detect in nature — both animate and inanimate, with soul or without soul — something which manifests itself only in contradictions, and which, therefore, could not be comprehended under any idea, still less under one word.
Page 81 - ... to see Where, hidden in the deep-blue sky, High up the lark goes singing free,— So wanders anxiously my gaze Piercing the field, the bush, the grove; On thee still call my frequent lays: O, come to me again, dear love.
Page 24 - With its nil-subduing charm ? If I swear no more to see her, If I man myself and flee her, . In a moment more, alack ! Straight to her I hie me back. She with magic net enfolds me, That defies my utmost skill ; Lovely, wanton maid — she holds me, Holds me fast against my will. In her magic ring who finds him, After all her ways must mind him. Ah ! how great the change to me ! Love ! when wilt thou set me free ! One more of the Lili poems, whereof the poet himself shall tell the occasion and the...
Page 129 - ... execution. When Ajax falls on his sword, it is the weight of his body that performs this service for him. When...
Page 107 - All that limits us it seemed to penetrate; it seemed to sport at will with the necessary elements of our existence ; it contracted time and expanded space. In the impossible alone did it appear to find pleasure, while it rejected the possible with contempt.
Page 7 - I was so apt to dictate a little song to myself, without being able to recall it again, that sometimes I ran to the desk, and, without taking time to adjust a sheet of paper that happened to be lying obliquely, wrote down the poem from beginning to end, diagonally, without moving from the spot. In this mood I was most pleased to get hold of the lead pencil, because this gave out the marks most readily ; for it sometimes happened that the scratching and spirting of the pen woke me from my somnambular...

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