Dort wo man Bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man auch am Ende Menschen. - Heinrich Heine

The weather-cock on the church spire, though made of iron, would soon be broken by the storm-wind if it did not understand the noble art of turning to every wind.

Yes, I know better; God created man so that he might admire the splendour of the world. Every author, be he never so great, wants his work to be praised.

So long as my heart is full of love and the heads of my fellow-men are full of folly, I shall never lack something to write about.