Joseph Goebbels (1897 – 1945)
Adolf Hitler's Propaganda Minister in Nazi Germany.
You challenged your fate. To surmount or to die! It was not yet time. Therefore you became a victim.
Your answer was: Death!
We shall be quiet and wait till a star falls from heaven. Can you see, how above one light appears after the other and they together form a dome! We sit in silence and fold our hands in prayer. We shall be quiet and wait until a star falls from heaven.
That was my longing: for the mountains' divine solitude and peacefulness, for pure, white snow. I got tired of the big city.
I am at home again in the mountains. There I sit for many hours amid their white virginity and find myself again.
Hereafter we all have to be redeemed. The world is pulling with a thousand strings. We sin because of indifference and negligence and heap new guilt on the old original one. Our life is a chain of sin and expiation controlled by a destiny that can not be understood.
When I sit near the ocean in the morning and write my verses and breathe the salty wind which is coming from the water, I rejoice in God and I am blissful, as I was as a child.
How beautiful life is! Music and dancing! The violins are sobbing. The first stopper of a bottle of champagne bangs. And now there's a mad singing and shouting. Everybody joins in and sings and shouts! Embracing, friendship, eternal friendship! How beautiful the women are! Dressed in black and red. But you are the prettiest, Hertha! ... Hey, you grumblers, the devil shall get you! Music and dancing. The violins are sobbing. Women dressed in black and red. But you are the prettiest, Hertha!
Hypocrisy is the characteristic feature of the dying bourgeois epoch.
The fatherland shall one day be like this: We're not all equal, but we're all brothers.
The end of the year! I draw the balance. Inquiry of conscience and request to the Spirit for progress and maturity.
I grew stronger inside of me and I strive for a clearer knowledge and stronger faith.
The night folds her trembling hands over a weary world. Out of a pale blue rises the shining moon. My thoughts are flying to the stars like lonely swans.
I put down the oars and float endlessly as if to the eternal shore. Blue light of the moon shines on my sail. My boat is gliding to a secure haven. Only silent waves break against it. Deepest silence surrounds me and my soul builds a golden bridge to a star.
A mother who is not everything for her children: a friend, a teacher, a confidant, a source of joy and founded pride, inducement and soothing, reconciliator, judge and forgiver, that mother obviously chose the wrong job.
Goethe as an old man: he was so very punctual. At that time he also wrote many things that were very punctual. The rounded thing is boring. Turn it as you may, it remains round and pretty.
I love the edges, the sharp lines, and fractures.
I show to him a picture of Dostoevsky. How ruptured, furrowed, tormented!
He looks like Michelangelo; the face of an endurer and a prophet.
Man only honors what he conquers or defends.
Give your goods to the poor: Christ.
Property is theft - as long as it's not mine: Marx.
(multiple variations) If you repeat a lie often enough, it becomes the truth. // If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it. // If you repeat a lie often enough, people will believe it. // If you repeat a lie long enough, it becomes truth. // If you repeat a lie many times, people are bound to start believing it.
The war we are fighting until victory or the bitter end is in its deepest sense a war between Christ and Marx.
Christ: the principle of love.
Marx: the principle of hate.
Mozart didn't need a scheme for his music. He played and sang with the heavenly lightness of a child.
In the newspapers there is insulting and stirring up hatred. Those irresponsible daubers!
The people are on the streets -- rampaging and protesting. The magnates are sitting at the green table and calmly finish their game.
Old Europe is dying.
Well, it's a crazy world! Thrift, Horatio!
As if by a mysterious power one feels compelled to go out onto the streets. The thoughts wander outside to the stage which is portraying a drama of world history -- not an edifying one, but still a drama. It gives the earnest observer a lot to think about.
O this world is beautiful because of you! To love somebody means that we're closer to God.