use are heard all at
once. Only a few of the birds that build their nests deep in the
forest, sing there.
*
In springtime, forest rills become brooks. In summer, naught is
visible, save the dry bed of the steam. It is the same with our own
lives.
*
When old Jochem hears me rejoice because spring has come, he always
says: "What does it signify? In a few weeks, the days will begin to
shorten again."
*
If human beings, like the trees, bore visible blossoms, these blossoms
would assume a different shape and color, with each succeeding year.
The blossoms of my soul were once so bright; but now--
*
For the first time in my life, I have seen a pair of eagles soaring in
the air. What a life theirs must be! They hovered far overhead, and
described a circle in their flight. About what were they circling? Then
they soared still higher and vanished in the empyrean.
The world still contains spirits whose flights are as free and as bold
as that of the eagle. There is no creature that soars above the king of
birds, no enemy that can approach him. But man sends forth the fatal
ball and thus exerts an influence in regions which the eye alone can
pierce.
_He_ too was filled with pride when he had shot an eagle. And why?
Because it was a proof of his power, and he adorned my hat with the
token of his victory. Ah, woe is me!
Why does this grief constantly return to me?
*
We women are never alone in nature. This is only another proof of the
deep truth that lies in the old tradition. Man, created first, was
alone; but woman, who came afterward, never existed alone. This repeats
itself through the history of all nations, and a perplexing mystery is
at last revealed to me.
*
In the world of fashion, just as in the park, the traces of footsteps
are effaced by obsequious servants. There must be nothing to remind us
of yesterday.
And yet their life is to form a part of history.
*
To cease evil, is not doing good.
I would like to accomplish some great deed. But where?
Within myself alone.
*
My little pitchman is quite a changed being when among scenes of
nature. He does not love nature. To use his own words, it merely am
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