Nothing can throw thee into the infernal abyss so much as this detested word -- heed well! -- this mine and thine.

The Rose is without an explanation; She blooms, because She blooms.

By the will art thou lost, by the will art thou found, by the will art thou free, captive, and bound.

The name of Jesus is as ointment poured forth; It nourishes, and illumines, and stills the anguish of the soul.

Though Christ a thousand times in Bethlehem be born, / If he's not born in thee thy soul is still forlorn. / Should Christ be born a thousand times anew, / Despair, O man, unless he's born in you!

That thou seest, man, become too thou must; God, if thou seest God, dust, if thou seest dust.