Friedrich Schiller

Courage, ne'er by sorrow broken!
Aid where tears of virtue flow;
Faith to keep each promise spoken!
Truth alike to friend and foe!

Man kann den Menschen nicht verwehren, Zu denken, was sie wollen.

The greater part of humanity is too much harassed and fatigued by the struggle with want to rally itself for a new and sterner struggle.

We shall be free, just as our fathers were.

What's old collapses, times change,
And new life blossoms in the ruins.

Kann ich Armeen aus der Erde stampfen?
Wächst mir ein Kornfeld in der flachen Hand?
Reißt mich in Stücken, reißt das Herz mir aus,
Und münzet es statt Goldes! Blut hab' ich
Für euch, nicht Silber hab' ich, noch Soldaten!

Keep true to the dreams of thy youth.

Therefore, one will see in the so-called refined ages, softness degenerate not seldom into effeminacy, plainness into insipidity, correctness into emptiness, liberality into arbitrariness, lightness into frivolity, calm into apathy, and the most contemptible caricature border upon the most glorious humanity.

Nicht Stimmenmehrheit ist des Rechtes Probe.

Den schlechten Mann muß man verachten,
Der nie bedacht, was er vollbringt.
Das ist's ja, was den Menschen zieret,
Und dazu ward ihm der Verstand,
Daß er im innern Herzen spüret,
Was er erschafft mit seiner Hand.

Posterity weaves no garlands for imitators.

The Greeks put us to shame not only by their simplicity, which is foreign to our age; they are at the same time our rivals, nay, frequently our models, in those very points of superiority from which we seek comfort when regretting the unnatural character of our manners. We see that remarkable people uniting at once fullness of form and fullness of substance, both philosophising and creating, both tender and energetic, uniting a youthful fancy to the virility of reason in a glorious humanity.

Utility is the great idol of the time, for which all powers slave and all talents must pay homage.

From the fields and from the vineyards
Came no fruits to deck the feats,
Only flesh of blood-stained victims
Smouldered on the altar-fires,
And whe'er the grieving goddess
Turns her melancholy gaze,
Sunk in vilest degradation,
Man his loathsomeness displays.

Even the strongest minds cannot, with impunity, defy the prejudices of the age.