The Germans Believe That, No Matter Where,

The Cradle Of The Future Is The Grave Of The Past.

No Matter Which Word It Is, When I Pronounce Repeatedly, It Ends Up Sounding Utterly Ridiculous And Meaningless To Me.

Gold Is The Gift Of Vanity And Common Pride, But Flowers Are The Gift Of Love And Friendship.

The Sun Of A Prince's Good Graces Resembles That In The Skies In That It Shines Most Kindly Upon The Blackest People.

As Far As The Arts And The Sciences Are Concerned, The German Mind Appreciates Most Highly That Which It Does Not Understand Of The Latter, And That Which It Does Not Enjoy Of The Former.