Explore Quotes by Friedrich Schiller

Sorrow is brief but joy is endless

Man is an imitative creature.

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.

Glory to Women! They weave and entwine heavenly roses into an earthly life.

Man is never so authentically himself as when at play.

We can never replace a friend. When a man is fortunate enough to have several, he finds they are all different. No one has a double in friendship.

Have Hope. Though clouds environs now, And gladness hides her face in scorn, Put thou the shadow from thy brow, - No night but hath its morn.

Truth lives on in the midst of deception.

Did you think the lion was sleeping because he didn't roar?

I am better than my reputation

A noble heart will always capitulate to reason.

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.

O jealousy! thou magnifier of trifles.

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

He that is overcautious will accomplish little.

If the art of gardening is at last to turn back from her extravagances and rest with her other sisters, it is, above everything, necessary to have clearly before you what you require . . . It is certainly tasteless and inconsistent to desire to encompass the world with a garden-wall, but very practicable and reasonable to make a garden . . . into a characteristic whole to the eye, heart, and nderstanding alike.

Even the weak become strong when they are united.

Love guides the stars towards each other, the world plan endures only through love.

It may here be justly said, that genuine morality is preserved only in the school of adversity, and a state of continuous prosperity may easily prove a quicksand to virtue.

In the case of a creative mind, it seems to me, the intellect has withdrawn its watchers from the gates, and the ideas rush in pell-mell and only then does it review and inspect the multitudes.

The reason for you complaint lies, it seems to me, in the constraint which your intellect imposes upon your imagination. Here I will make an observation, and illustrate it by an allegory. Apparently, it is not good-and indeed it hinders the creative work of the mind-if the if the intellect examines too closely the ideas pouring in, as it were, at the gates.