Those who laughed at the comical fellow by day, little dreamed of the anguish and misery in which he sighed away the night." "You not only wrong yourself, but you wrong mankind," said Goethe, kindly.

"In the world, and in literature, you bear an honored name; every one of education is familiar with your excellent work on 'Prosody of the German Language'-- has read also your spirited Journey to England.
You have no right to ask that one should separate the kernel from the shell in hastily passing by.

If you surround yourself with a wall bedaubed with caricatures, you cannot expect that people will look behind what seems an entrance to a puppet-show, to find holy temples, blooming gardens, or a church-yard filled with graves." "That is just what I resemble," said Moritz, with a melancholy air.
"From the depths of my soul it seems so.

Nothing but buried hopes, murdered ideals, and wishes trodden under foot.

From childhood I have exerted myself against circumstances; I have striven my whole life--a pledge of my being against unpropitious Fate.