Habit Is A Man's Sole Comfort. We

Quite Often, As Life Goes On, When We Feel Completely Secure As We Go On Our Way, We Suddenly Notice That We Are Trapped In Error, That We Have Allowed Ourselves To Be Taken In By Individuals, By Objects, Have Dreamt Up An Affinity With Them Which Immediately Vanishes Before Our Waking Eye; And Yet We Cannot Tear Ourselves Away, Held Fast By Some Power That Seems Incomprehensible To Us. Sometimes, However, We Become Fully Aware And Realize That Error As Well As Truth Can Move And Spur Us On To Action.

It Is Not Enough To Have Knowledge; One Must Apply It. It Is Not Enough To Have Wishes; One Must Also Accomplish It.

Thou Art In The End What Thou Art. Put On Wigs With Millions Of Curls, Set Thy Foot Upon Ell-high Rocks. Thou Abidest Ever--what Thou Art.

What Am I Then...? Everything That I Have Seen, Heard, And Observed I Have Collected And Exploited. My Works Have Been Nourished By Countless Different Individuals, By Innocent And Wise Ones, People Of Intelligence And Dunces. Childhood, Maturity And Old Age All Have Brought Me Their Thoughts....their Perspectives On Life. I Have Often Reaped What Others Have Sowed. My Work Is The Work Of A Collective Being That Bears The Name Goethe.

The Eternal Female Draws Us Onward.