ll-life, I am simply struck with amazement at its almightiness.
Though these are known things, as much known as the rising of the sun
and the tides of the ocean, nevertheless they are always wonderful.

After Empedocles, who divined that Eros evolved the worlds from Chaos,
metaphysics have not advanced one step. Only death is a power equally
absolute; yet in the eternal struggle between the two, love is the
stronger; love conquers death by night and day, conquers it every
spring, follows death step by step, throwing fresh grain into the gulf
it creates. People occupied with every-day affairs forget or do not
wish to remember that they are love's servants. It is strange when we
come to think of it that the warrior, the chancellor of state, the
cultivator of the soil, the merchant, the banker, in all their
efforts, which apparently have nothing to do with love, are merely
furthering its ends; that is, they serve the law of nature which bids
the man to stretch out his arms for the woman. A mad paradox it would
seem to a Bismarck if he were told that the final and only aim of all
his endeavors is to further the love of Hermann and Dorothea. It seems
even to me a paradox; and yet Bismarck's aim is the consolidation of
the German empire, and this can be achieved only through Hermann and
Dorothea. What else, then, has a Bismarck to do but to create by
the help of politics and bayonets such conditions that Hermann and
Dorothea may love each other in peace, unite in happiness, and bring
up new generations?

When at the university I read an Arabian ghazel in which the poet
compares the power of love to that of infernal torments. I forget the
name of the poet, but the idea remained in my memory. Truly, love is
the one power that lasts for all times, holds the world together, and
creates new worlds.

10 March.

To-day I tore up three or four letters to Aniela. After dinner, I went
into my father's room to talk with him about my aunt's plans. I found
him looking through a lens at some epilichnions with the earth still
adhering to them, he had received from the Peloponnesus. How splendid
he looked in that light coming through stained windows in the large
room full of Etruscan vases, statues more or less mutilated, and all
kinds of Greek and Roman treasures. Among these surroundings his face
reminded me of a divine Plato or of some other Greek sage. When I
entered he interrupted his work, listened attentively to what I had to
s