O, how we struggle and hate! Inclinations, opinions divide us.
Yet in the meantime thy locks turn into silver like mine.
Siehe, wir hassen, wir streiten, es trennet uns Neigung und Meinung;
Aber es bleichet indess dir sich die Locke wie mir.
"A peculiar anthologic maze, an amusing literary chaos, a farrago of quotations, a mere olla podrida of quaintness, a pot pourri of pleasant delites, a florilegium of elegant extracts, a tangled fardel of old-world flowers of thought, a faggot of odd fancies, quips, facetiae, loosely tied" (Holbrook Jackson, Anatomy of Bibliomania) by a "laudator temporis acti," a "praiser of time past" (Horace, Ars Poetica 173).
Pages
▼
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Our Common Fate
Schiller, Our Common Fate (Das gemeinsame Schicksal, tr. Paul Carus):