We are near waking when we dream we are dreaming.

Nature is a petrified magic city.

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.

Philosophy is properly home-sickness; the wish to be everywhere at home.

Only an artist can interpret the meaning of life.

Where children are, there is the golden age.

The artist belongs to his work, not the work to the artist.