The concepts “beyond” and “real world” were invented in order to depreciate the only world that exists-in order that no goal, no aim or task might be left for our earthly reality.
In every real man a child is hidden that wants to play.
Rendering oneself unarmed when one had been the best-armed, out of a height of feeling-that is the means to real peace, which must always rest on a peace of mind.
Real dancers are the ones who can hear the music in their soul.
Science offends the modesty of all real women. It makes them feel as though it were an attempt to peek under their skin – or, worseyet, under their dress and ornamentation!
A real fox calls sour not only those grapes that he cannot reach but also those that he has reached and taken away from others.
Those people have no real interest in a science who only begin to get excited about it when they themselves have made discoveries in it.
I fear that, with our current veneration for the natural and the real, we have arrived at the opposite pole to all idealism, and have landed in the region of the waxworks.
A sedentary life is the real sin against the Holy Spirit. Only those thoughts that come by walking have any value.
When we talk in company we lose our unique tone of voice, and this leads us to make statements which in no way correspond to our real thoughts.
Faith, indeed, has up to the present not been able to move real mountains, although I do not know who assumed that it could. But it can put mountains where there are none.
All prejudices may be traced back to the intestines. A sedentary life is the real sin against the Holy Ghost.
Confiscation in any form is an unhealthy solution for a real disease. It amounts to telling men that because they are economically crippled, they must abandon all efforts to get well and allow the state to provide them with free wheelchairs.
A real gentleman, even if he loses everything he owns, must show no emotion. Money must be so far beneath a gentleman that it is hardly worth troubling about.
To be acutely conscious is a disease, a real, honest-to-goodness disease.
I tell you solemnly, that I have many times tried to become an insect. But I was not equal even to that. I swear, gentlemen, that to be too conscious is an illness- a real thorough-going illness.
I am told that the proximity of punishment arouses real repentance in the criminal and sometimes awakens a feeling of genuine remorse in the most hardened heart; I am told this is due to fear.
It’s a burden to us even to be human beings-men with our own real body and blood; we are ashamed of it, we think it a disgrace and try to contrive to be some sort of impossible generalized man.
It is not the real punishment. The only effectual one, the only deterrent and softening one, lies in the recognition of sin by conscience.
After all, bluff and real emotion exist so easily side by side.