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Where children are, there is the golden age.
β Novalis
poet, lyricist, philosopher, engineer, literary theorist, writer
π Read on Wikipedia1772 Β β 1801
Where children are, there is the golden age.
A hero is one who knows how to hang on one minute longer.
Every beloved object is the center point of a paradise.
Learning is pleasurable but doing is the height of enjoyment.
Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.
We never completely comprehend ourselves, but we can do far more than comprehend.
Only as far as a man is happily married to himself is he fit for married life and family life in general.
Where children are, there is the golden age.
Character and fate are two words for the same thing.
Philosophy is properly home-sickness; the wish to be everywhere at home.
I often feel, and ever more deeply I realize, that fate and character are the same conception.
Knowledge is only one half. Faith is the other.
Christianity is the root of all democracy, the highest fact in the rights of men.
Nature is a petrified magic city.
We are more closely connected to the invisible than to the visible.
Only an artist can interpret the meaning of life.
To become properly acquainted with a truth, we must first have disbelieved it, and disputed against it.
A character is a completely fashioned will.
We are near waking when we dream we are dreaming.
Where no gods are, spectres rule.
Nothing is more indispensable to true religiosity than a mediator that links us with divinity.
The artist belongs to his work, not the work to the artist.
Knowledge is only one half. Faith is the other.
Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.
Life is the beginning of death. Life is for the sake of death. Death is at once the end and the beginningβat once separation and closer union of the self. Through death the reduction is complete
Learning is pleasurable but doing is the height of enjoyment.
Only an artist can interpret the meaning of life.
Philosophy is properly home-sickness; the wish to be everywhere at home.
One can not understand language because language cannot understand itself; does not want to understand
A hero is one who knows how to hang on one minute longer.
There are ideal series of events which run parallel with the real ones. They rarely coincide. Men and circumstances generally modify the ideal train of events, so that it seems imperfect, and its consequences are equally imperfect. Thus with the Reformation; instead of Protestantism came Lutheranism.
Fate and temperament are the names of a concept.
I was still blind, but twinkling stars did dance I found myself, a mere suggestion sensed in past and future ages.
Blood will stream over Europe until the nations become aware of the frightful madness which drives them in circles. And then, struck by celestial music and made gentle, they approach their former altars all together, hear about the works of peace, and hold a great celebration of peace with fervent tears before the smoking altars.
Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.
The world must be romanticized. In this way the originary meaning may be found again.
To romanticize the world is to make us aware of the magic, mystery and wonder of the world; it is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, the finite as infinite.
Morality must be the heart of our existence, if it is to be what it wants to be for us. β¦ The highest form of philosophy is ethics. Thus all philosophy begins with βI am.β The highest statement of cognition must be an expression of that fact which is the means and ground for all cognition, namely, the goal of the I.
Only the most perfect human being can design the most perfect philosophy.
Every stage of education begins with childhood. That is why the most educated person on earth so much resembles a child.
Philosophy β¦ bears witness to the deepest love of reflection, to absolute delight in wisdom.
The poem of the understanding is philosophy.
Friends, the soil is poor, we must sow seeds in plenty for us to garner even modest harvests.
Everywhere we seek the Absolute, and always we find only things.
Denotation by means of sounds and markings is a remarkable abstraction. Three letters designate God for me; several lines a million things. How easy becomes the manipulation of the universe here, how evident the concentration of the intellectual world! Language is the dynamics of the spiritual realm. One word of command moves armies; the word Liberty entire nations.
Imagination places the future world for us either above or below or in reincarnation. We dream of travels throughout the universe: is not the universe within us? We do not know the depths of our spirit. The mysterious path leads within. In us, or nowhere, lies eternity with its worlds, the past and the future.
Self-alienation is the source of all degradation as well as, on the contrary, the basis of all true elevation. The first step will be a look inward, an isolating contemplation of our self. Whoever remains standing here proceeds only halfway. The second step must be an active look outward, an autonomous, determined observation of the outer world.
We are on a mission: we are called to the cultivation of the earth.
Philosophy is properly home-sickness; the wish to be everywhere at home.
Every beloved object is the center point of a paradise.
The best thing about the sciences is their philosophical ingredient, like life for an organic body. If one dephilosophizes the sciences, what remains left? Earth, air, and water.
Nothing is more indispensable to true religiosity than a mediator that links us with divinity.
Building worlds is not enough for the deeper urging mind; but a loving heart sates the striving spirit.
Before abstraction everything is one, but one like chaos; after abstraction everything is united again, but this union is a free binding of autonomous, self-determined beings. Out of a mob a society has developed, chaos has been transformed into a manifold world.
If the world is a precipitation of human nature, so to speak, then the divine world is a sublimation of the same. Both occur in one act. No precipitation without sublimation. What goes lost there in agility, is won here.
Where children are, there is a golden age.
Many counterrevolutionary books have been written in favor of the Revolution. But Burke has written a revolutionary book against the Revolution.
Most observers of the French Revolution, especially the clever and noble ones, have explained it as a life-threatening and contagious illness. They have remained standing with the symptoms and have interpreted these in manifold and contrary ways. Some have regarded it as a merely local ill. The most ingenious opponents have pressed for castration. They well noticed that this alleged illness is nothing other than the crisis of beginning puberty.
The normal present connects the past and the future through limitation. Contiguity results, crystallization by means of solidification. There also exists, however, a spiritual present that identifies past and future through dissolution, and this mixture is the element, the atmosphere of the poet.
The art of writing books is not yet invented. But it is at the point of being invented. Fragments of this nature are literary seeds. There may be many an infertile grain among them: nevertheless, if only some come up!
Man is a sun and his senses are the planets.
The seat of the soul is where the inner world and the outer world meet. Where they overlap, it is in every point of the overlap.
No explanation is required for Holy Writing. Whoso speaks truly is full of eternal life, and wonderfully related to genuine mysteries does his Writing appear to us, for it is a Concord from the Symphony of the Universe.
Surely this voice meant our Teacher; for it is he that can collect the indications which lie scattered on all sides. A singular light kindles in his looks, when at length the high Rune lies before us, and he watches in our eyes whether the star has yet risen upon us, which is to make the Figure visible and intelligible.
I shall in no time forget that moment. We felt as if we had had in our souls a clear passing glimpse into this wondrous World.
Nature too remains, so far as we have yet come, ever a frightful Machine of Death: everywhere monstrous revolution, inexplicable vortices of movement; a kingdom of Devouring, of the maddest tyranny; a baleful Immense: the few light-points disclose but a so much the more appalling Night, and terrors of all sorts must palsy every observer.
Someone arrived there β who lifted the veil of the goddess, at Sais. β But what did he see? He saw β wonder of wonders β himself.
Philosophy can bake no bread; but she can procure for us God, Freedom, Immortality. Which, then, is more practical, Philosophy or Economy?
We are near awakening when we dream that we dream.
We are near waking when we dream we are dreaming.
The true philosophical Act is annihilation of self (Selbsttodtung); this is the real beginning of all Philosophy; all requisites for being a Disciple of Philosophy point hither. This Act alone corresponds to all the conditions and characteristics of transcendental conduct.
To become properly acquainted with a truth, we must first have disbelieved it, and disputed against it.
Man is the higher Sense of our Planet; the star which connects it with the upper world; the eye which it turns towards Heaven.
Life is a disease of the spirit; a working incited by Passion. Rest is peculiar to the spirit.
Our life is no Dream, but it may and will perhaps become one.
What is Nature? An encyclopedical, systematic Index or Plan of our Spirit. Why will we content us with the mere catalogue of our Treasures? Let us contemplate them ourselves, and in all ways elaborate and use them.
If our Bodily Life is a burning, our Spiritual Life is a being burnt, a Combustion (or, is precisely the inverse the case?); Death, therefore, perhaps a Change of Capacity.
Sleep is for the inhabitants of Planets only. In another time, Man will sleep and wake continually at once. The greater part of our Body, of our Humanity itself, yet sleeps a deep sleep.
There is but one Temple in the World; and that is the Body of Man. Nothing is holier than this high form. Bending before men is a reverence done to this Revelation in the Flesh. We touch Heaven, when we lay our hand on a human body.
Man is a Sun; his Senses are the Planets.
Man has ever expressed some symbolical Philosophy of his Being in his Works and Conduct; he announces himself and his Gospel of Nature; he is the Messiah of Nature.
Plants are Children of the Earth; we are Children of the Γther. Our Lungs are properly our Root; we live, when we breathe; we begin our life with breathing.
Nature is an Γolian Harp, a musical instrument; whose tones again are keys to higher strings in us.
The first Man is the first Spirit-seer; all appears to him as Spirit. What are children, but first men? The fresh gaze of the Child is richer in significance than the forecasting of the most indubitable Seer.
It depends only on the weakness of our organs and of our self-excitement (Selbstberuhrung), that we do not see ourselves in a Fairy-world. All Fabulous Tales (Mahrchen) are merely dreams of that home world, which is everywhere and nowhere. The higher powers in us, which one day as Genies, shall fulfil our will, are, for the present, Muses, which refresh us on our toilsome course with sweet remembrances.
Man consists in Truth. If he exposes Truth, he exposes himself. If he betrays Truth, he betrays himself. We speak not here of lies, but of acting against Conviction.
A character is a completely fashioned will. (vollkommen gebildeter Wille).
There is, properly speaking, no Misfortune in the world. Happiness and Misfortune stand in continual balance. Every Misfortune is, as it were, the obstruction of a stream, which, after overcoming this obstruction, but bursts through with the greater force.
The ideal of Morality has no more dangerous rival than the ideal of highest Strength, of most powerful life; which also has been named (very falsely as it was there meant) the ideal of poetic greatness. It is the maximum of the savage; and has, in these times, gained, precisely among the greatest weaklings, very many proselytes. By this ideal, man becomes a Beast-Spirit, a Mixture; whose brutal wit has, for weaklings, a brutal power of attraction.
The spirit of Poesy is the morning light, which makes the Statue of Memnon sound.
The division of Philosopher and Poet is only apparent, and to the disadvantage of both. It is a sign of disease, and of a sickly constitution.
The true Poet is all-knowing; he is an actual world in miniature.
Goethe is an altogether practical Poet. He is in his works what the English are in their wares: highly simple, neat, convenient and durable. He has done in German Literature what Wedgwood did in English Manufacture. He has, like the English, a natural turn for Economy, and a noble Taste acquired by Understanding. Both these are very compatible, and have a near affinity in the chemical sense.
Only as far as a man is happily married to himself is he fit for married life and family life in general.
Knowledge is only one half. Faith is the other.
