Friedrich Schiller

Art is the daughter of freedom.

There is no such thing as chance; and what seem to us merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny.

Who dares nothing, need hope for nothing.

While the womanly god demands our veneration, the godlike woman kindles our love; but while we allow ourselves to melt in the celestial loveliness, the celestial self-sufficiency holds us back in awe.

As noble Art has survived noble nature, so too she marches ahead of it, fashioning and awakening by her inspiration. Before Truth sends her triumphant light into the depths of the heart, imagination catches its rays, and the peaks of humanity will be glowing when humid night still lingers in the valleys.

Wise to resolve, patient to perform.

When you are not happy with your life, always think that someone is happy simply because you exist

Even now, nature is the only flame, on which the poetic spirit feeds; from it alone it draws all its power, to it alone it speaks even in the artificial, in the man engaged in culture.

I am better than my reputation

What reason, like the careful ant, draws laboriously together, the wind of accident sometimes collects in a moment.

It hinders the creative work of the mind if the intellect examines too closely the ideas as they pour in.

It is difficult to discriminate the voice of truth from amid the clamor raised by heated partisans.

Not without a shudder may the human hand reach into the mysterious urn of destiny.

Everlastingly chained to a single little fragment of the Whole, man himself develops into nothing but a fragment; everlastingly in his ear the monotonous sound of the wheel that he turns, he never develops the harmony of his being, and instead of putting the stamp of humanity upon his own nature, he becomes nothing more than the imprint of his occupation or of his specialized knowledge.

The history of the world is the world's court of justice.

The world is ruled only by consideration of advantages.

All things must; man is the only creature that wills.

A merely fallen enemy may rise again, but the reconciled one is truly vanquished.

Revenge is barren of itself: it is the dreadful food it feeds on; its delight is murder, and its end is despair.

Utility is the great idol of the age, to which all powers must do service and all talents swear allegiance.

To gain a crown by fighting is great, to reject it divine.