"...Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of Heaven,
Ethereal Virtues! or these titles now must we renounce,
and, changing style, be called Princes of Hell? for so the
popular vote inclines, here to continue, and build up here
a growing empire - doubtless! while we dream, and know
not that the King of Heaven hath doomed this place our
dungeon, not our safe retreat beyond his potent arm, to
live exempt from Heaven`s high jurisdiction in new league
banded against his throne, but to remain in strictest bondage,
though thus far removed, under the inevitable curb, reserved
his captive multitude. For he, be sure, in height or depth, still
first and last will reign sole king, and of his kingdom lose no
part by our revolt, but over Hell extend his empire, and with
iron sceptre rule us here, as with his golden those in Heaven."


"...Not only enlighten, but with heate of various influence
foment and warme, temper or nourish, or in part shed down
thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow on earth, made hereby
apter to receife perfection from the Suns more potent Ray,
these then, though unbeheld in deep of night, shine not in
vain, nor think, though men were none, that heav`n would
want spectators, God want praise; millions of spiritual
Creatures walk the Earth unseen, booth when we wake, and
when we sleep: All these with ceasless praise his works
behold of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard celestial
voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to others
note singing thir great Creator: oft in Bands while they keep
watch, or nightly rounding walk with Heav`nly touch of
instrumental sounds in full harmonic number joind, thir songs
divide the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven..."

"...Tristis at ille `tamen cantabitis, Arcades`, inquit
`montibus haec vestris, soli cantare periti
Arcades. o mihi tum quam molliter ossa quiescant,
vestra meos olim si fistula dicat amores.
atque utinam ex vobis unus vestrique fuissem
aut custos gregis aut maturae vinitor uvae!
certe sivi mihi Phyllis sive esset Amyntas
seu quicumque furor - quid tum, si fuscus Amyntas?
et nigrae violae sunt et vaccinia nigra -; mecum
inter salices lenta sub vite iaceres,
serta mihi Phyllis legeret, cantaret Amyntas.
hic gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori,
hic nemus; hic ipso tecum consumerer aevo..."

"...The awful shadow of some unseen Power
Floats though unseen among us, - visiting
This various world with as inconstant wing
As summer winds that creep from flower to
Flower, - like moonbeams that behind some
Piny mountain shower, it visits with inconstant
Glance each human heart and countenance;
Like hues and harmonies of evening, - like clouds
In starlight widely spread, - like memory of
Music fled, - like aught that for its grace may be
Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery..."

"...The path through which that lovely twain
Have passed, by cedar, pine, and yew.
And each dark tree that ever grew,
Is curtained out from Heaven`s wide blue;
Nor sun, nor moon, nor wind, nor rain,
Can pierce its interwoven bowers,
Nor aught, save where some cloud of dew,
Drifted along the earth-creeping breeze,
Between the trunks of the hoar trees,
Hangs each a pearl in the pale flowers
Of the green laurel, blown anew;
And bends, and then fades silently,
On frail and fair anemone:
Or when some star of many a one
That climbs and wanders through steep night,
Has found the cleft through which alone
Beams fall from high those depths upon
Ere it is borne away, away,
By the swift Heavens that cannot stay,
It scatters drops of golden light,
Like lines of rain that ne`er unite:
And the gloom divine is all around,
And underneath is the mossy ground..."

Id quidem ago et tacitus, Lycida, mecum ipse voluto,
si valeam meminisse; neque est ignobile carmen.
huc ades, o Galatea; quis est nam ludus in undis?
hic ver purpureum, varios hic flumina circum
fundit humus flores, hic candida populus antro
imminet et lentae texunt umbracula vites:
huc ades; insani feriant, sine, litora fluctus`...

"...The fields, the lakes, the forests, and the streams,
Ocean, and all the living things that dwell
Within the daedal earth; lightning, and rain,
Earthquake, and fiery flood, and hurricane,
The topor of the year when feeble dreams
Visit the hidden buds, or dreamless sleep
Holds every future leaf and flower; - the bound
With which from that detested trance they leap;
The works and ways of man, their death and birth,
And that of him and all that his may be;
All things that move and breathe with toil and sound
Are born and die; revolve, subside, and swell.
Power dwells apart in its tranquillity,
Remote, serene, and inaccessible:
And this, the nacked countenance of earth,
One which I gaze, even these primaeval mountains
Teach the adverting mind..."

...interea mixtis lustrabo Maenala nymphis
aut acris venabor apros; non me ulla vetabund
frigora Parthenios canibus circumdare saltus.
iam mihi per rupes videor lucosque sonantis
ire; libet Partho torquere Cydonia cornu
spicula - tamquam haec sit nostri medicina
furoris aut deus ille malis hominum mitescere


"A Child said What is the grass? fetching it to me
with full hands, how could I answer the child?
I do not know what it is any more than he

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out
of hopeful green stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, a
scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
bearing the owner`s name someway in the corners,
that we may see remark, and say Whose...?"

"...I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-
work of the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand,
and the egg of the wren,
And the tree-toad is a chief-d`oeuvre for the highest,
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors
of heaven,
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn
all machinery,
And the cow crunching with depress`d head surpasses
any statue,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of

...I think I could turn and live with animals, they`re so
placid and self-contain`d,
I stand and look at them long and long..."

"Würden die Pforten der Wahrnehmung gereinigt,
erschiene den Menschen alles, wie es ist: unendlich
und heilig..."

"Donne ta main, retiens ton souffle, asseyons-nous
Sous cet arbre geant ou vient mourir la brise
En soupirs inegaux sous la ramure grise
Que caresse le clair de lune bleme et doux.

Immobiles, baisson nos yeux vers nos genoux.
Ne pensons pas, revons. Laissons faire a leur guise
Le bonheur qui s`enfuit et l`amour qui s`epuise,
Et nos cheveux froles par l`aile des hiboux.

Oublions d`esperer. Discrete et contenue,
Que l`ame de chacun de nous deux continue
Ce calme et cette mort sereine du soleil.

Restons silencieux parmi la paix nocturne:
Il n`est pas bon d`aller troubler dans son sommeil
La nature, ce dieu feroce et taciturne..."

"...Ich saß am Meeresufer und hörte nur halb einem Freund zu.
Ohne mir dessen bewußt zu sein, blickte ich auf eine dünne Schicht
mäßig aufgegriffenen Sands auf meiner Hand, als ich plötzlich die erlesene
Schönheit jedes einzelnen Körnchens sah; ich sah, daß jedes Teilchen
sich vom anderen Unterschied und nach einem vollkommenen geometrischen
Muster gebildet war, mit scharfen Ecken, von denen jede einen leuchtenden
Lichtstrahl zurückwarf, während jedes einzelne winzige Kristall wie ein
Regenbogen leuchtete...
Die Strahlen kreuzten einander und bildeten erlesene Muster von solcher
Schönheit, daß sie mir den Atem raubte... Dann wurde plötzlich mein Bewußtsein
von innen her erleuchtet, und ich sah auf eine lebhafte Weise, wie das ganze
Weltall aus Teilchen von Materie bestand, welche, wie matt und leblos sie auch
zu sein schienen, von dieser intensiven und vitalen Schönheit erfüllt waren. Ein
paar Sekunden lang erschien die ganze Welt als ein einziges Flammen von
Herrlichkeit. Als das erlosch, hinterließ es etwas in mir, daß ich nie vergessen
habe, das mich beständig an die Schönheit gemahnt, die in jedem kleinsten
Stäubchen von Materie um uns her eingeschlossen ist..."


"...Wir alle sind hier nicht als Franzosen, Deutsche oder Amerikaner,
sondern als Schriftsteller, die ihre Kunst als Artikulation menschlichen
Geistes verstehen. Jeder von uns ist Vertreter seiner Klasse und seines
Landes nur insoweit, als er seinem eigenen tiefsten Selbst und auf diese
Weise der Menschheit Stimme verleiht. Darin liegt das unveränderbare
Wesen des Künstlers. Ob er es weiß oder nicht (und heutzutage wissen
es die meißten nicht, woraus sich denn auch das Bruchstückhafte und
das Beschädigte sowohl ihrer Werke als auch ihrer Selbst erklärt), ist
der Künstler ein Mensch, der von der Voraussetzung ausgeht, daß das
Universelle im Besonderen und daß der Kosmos im einzelnen Menschen
lebt. Das bedeuten die geheimnisvollen Worte "Schönheit" und "Wahrheit"
in ihrer Anwendung auf die Kunst. Wenn wir am Universellen in Form
des Besonderen teilhaben - sei es im Gemälde eines Baumes oder in der
Erzählung über einen Bettler -, dann nennen wir das das Erfahren der
Schönheit. Wir spüren das Einssein zwischen dem eigenen Selbst und dem
anderen Gegenstand, eine Einheit, die, weit entfernt, die Besonderheit der
Persönlichkeit oder des Gegenstands zu zerstören, diese im Gegenteil erhöht
und wahr werden läßt.
Und ob es uns bewußt ist oder nicht, dieses Erfahren von Wahrheit und
Schönheit bedeutet uns sehr viel, wir empfinden es als gut. Das ist ein weiterer
unveränderbarer Wesenszug, der uns bei allem, was uns unterscheidet,
gemeinsam ist..."

"La mer est plus belle
Que les cathedrales,
Nourrice fidele,
Berceuse de rales,
La mer sur qui prie
La Vierge Marie!

Elle a tous les dons
Terribles et doux.
J`entends ses pardons
Gronder ses courroux...
Cette immensite
N`a rien d`entete.

Oh! si patiente,
Meme quand mechante!
Un souffle ami hante
La vague, et nous chante:
Vous sans esperance,
Mourez sans souffrance!`

Et puis sous les cieux
Qui s`y rient plus clairs,
Elle a des airs bleus,
Roses, gris et verts...
Plus belle que tous,
Meilleure que nous..."

"...The day becomes more solemn and
serene when noon is past - there is a
harmony in autuum, and a lustre in its
sky, which trough the summer is not
heard or seen, as if cold not be, as if
it had not been!
Thus let thy power, which like the
thruth of nature on my passive youth
descended, to my onward life supply
its calm - to one who worships thee,
and every form containing thee,
whom, spirit fair, thy spells did
bind to fear himself, and love all
human kind..."

"This also shall they gain by their delay
In the wide wilderness; there they shall found
Their government, and their great Senate choose
Trough the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordained.
God, from the Mount of Sinai, whose grey top
Shall tremble, he descending, will himself,
In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpet`s sound,
Ordain them laws, part, such as appertain
To civil justice; part, religious rites
Of sacrifice, informing them, by types
And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise
The Serpent, by what means he shall achieve
Mankind`s deliverance. But the voice of God
To mortal ear is dreadful: they beseech
That Moses might report to them his will,
And terror cease; he grants what they besought,
Instructed that to God is no access
Without Mediator, whose high office now
Moses in figure bears, to introduce
One greater, of whose day he shall foretell,
And all the Prophets, in their age, the times
Off great Messiah shall sing. Thus laws and rites
Established, such delight hath God in men
Obedient to his will, that he vouchsafes
Among them to set up his tabernacle,
The Holy One with mortal men to dwell;
By his prescript a sanctuary is framed
Of cedar, overlaid with gold, therein
An ark, and in the ark his testimony,
The records of his covenant; over these
A mercy-seat of gold, between the wings
Of two bright Cherubim; before him burn
Seven lamps, as in a zodiac representing
The heavenly fires; over the ten a cloud
Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night,
Save when they journey; and at lenght they come,
Conducted by his Angel, to the land
Promised to Abraham and his seed - the rest
Were long to tell: how many battles fought,
How many kings destroyed, and kingdoms won,
Or how the sun shall in mid-heaven stand still
A day entire, and night`s due course adjourn,
Man`s voice commanding, Sun, in Gibeon stand,
And thou, Moon, in the vale of Ajalon,
Till Israel overcome - so call the third
From Abraham, son of Isaac, and from him
His whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win..."


"...Ich glaube, ein Grashalm ist nicht geringer
als das Tagwerk der Sterne, und die Ameise
ist ebenso vollkommen wie ein Sandkorn und
des Zaunkönigs Ei, und der Laubfrosch ist ein
Meisterstück vor dem Allerhöchsten, und die
Brombeerranken könnten die Hallen des
Himmels schmücken, und das kleinste Gelenk
meiner Hand spottet aller Technik, und die
Kuh, die gesängten Kopfes wiederkäut,
übertrifft jedes Bildwerk, und eine Maus ist
Wunder genug, um Sextillionen von
Ungläubigen wankend zu machen..."

"...Ihr Thronen, Mächte, Herrscher, Himmelssöhne, Ihr Ätherkräfte!
Oder heißen wir, entsagend diesen Titeln, fortan nur der Höllen Fürsten,
da die Mehrzahl, seh` ich, hier zu bleiben, hier ein wachsend Reich
zu bilden wünscht?
Führwahr, wir träumen noch, vergessend, daß der Himmelskönig uns
den Ort zum Kerker anwies, nicht als Freistatt vor seinem mächt`gem
Arm: nicht daß wir hier, des Himmels Richtertuhl entrückt, aufs neu
verbündet gegen seine Herrschaft leben; Nein, daß, ob fern, er doch
in strengster Haft an seinen Zügeln unentrinnbar uns gefangenhalte.
Denn alleiniger Herr, glaubt nur, wird er in Höh und Tiefe stets der
Erst und Letzte sein; durch unsern Abfall nicht an Gebiet verkürzt,
herrscht über uns sein eisern Zepter in der Hölle hier, wie über
Himmlische sein goldnes herrscht.
Was wägen wir, ob Frieden oder Krieg...?"


"...Some say that gleams of a remoter world
visit the soul in sleep, - that death is slumber,
and that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber
of those who wake and live. - I look on high;
has some unknown omnipotence unfurled the
veil of live and death? or do I lie in dream, and
does the mightier world of sleep spread far
around and inaccessibly its circles? For the
very spirit fails, driven like a homeless cloud
from steep to steep that vanishes among the
viewless gales!

Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky, Mont Blanc
appears, - still, snowy, and serene - its subject
mountains their unearthly forms pile around it, ice and
rock; broad vales between of frozen floods, unfathomable
deeps, blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread and
wind among the accumulated steeps; a desert peopled by
the storms alone, save when the eagle brings some hunter`s
bone, and the wolf tracks her there - how hideously its shapes
are heaped around! rude, bare, and high, ghastly, and scarred,
and riven. - Is this the scene where the old Earthquake-daemon
taught her young ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea of
fire envelop once this silent snow?

None can reply - all seems eternal now. The wilderness has a
mysterious tongue which teaches awful doupt, or faith so mild,
so solemn, so serene, that man may be, but for such faith, with
nature reconciled; thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal
large codes of fraud and woe; not understood by all, but which
the wise, and great, and good interpret, or make felt, or deeply

Causando nostros in longum ducis amores.
et nunc omne tibi stratum silet aequor et omnes,
aspice, ventosi ceciderunt murmuris aurae.
hinc adeo media est nobis via; namque sepulcrum
incipit apparere Bianoris; hic, ubi densas
agricolae stringunt frondes, hic, Moeri, canamus;
hic haedos depone, ramen veniemus in urbem.
aut si, nox pluviam ne colligat ante, veremur,
cantantes ut eamus, ego hoc te fasce levabo...

"How calm it was! - the silence there
By such a chain was bound
That even the busy woodpecker
Made stiller by her sound
The inviolable quietness;
The breath of peace we drew
With its soft motion made not less
The calm that round us grew.
There seemed from the remotest seat
Of the white mountains waste,
To the soft flower beneath our feet,
A magic circle traced, -
A spirit interfused around,
A thrilling, silent live, -
To momentary peace it bound
Our mortal nature`s strife;
And still I felt the centre of
The magic circle there
Was one fair form that filled with love
The lifeless atmosphere..."

"....No leaf will be shaken
Whilst the dews of your melody scatter


"Sa tete fine dans sa main toute petite,
Elle ecoute le chant des cascades lointaines,
Et, dans la plainte langoureuse des fontaines,
Percoit comme un echo beni du nom de Tite.

Elle a ferme ses yeux divins de clematite
Pour bien leur peindre, au coeur des batailles hautaines
Son doux heros, le mieux aimant de capitaines,
Et, Juive, elle se sent au pouvoir d`Aphrodite.

Alors un grand souci la prend d`etre amoureuse,
Car dans Rome une loi bannit, barbare, affreuse,
Du trone imperial toute femme etrangere.

Et sous le noir chagrin dont sanglote son ame,
Entre le bras de sa servante la plus chere,
La reine, helas! defaille et tendrement se pame..."


"...No voice from some sublimer world hath
ever to wisest poets these responses given -
therefore the name of God and Ghosts and
Heaven, remain yet records of their vain
Endeavour - frail spells, - whose uttered charm
might not avail to sever from what we feel and
what we see Doupt, Chance and mutability.
Thy shade alone like mists o`er mountains
driven, or music by the night-wind send thro`
strings of some mute instrument, or moonlight
on a forest stream, give truth and grace to
life`s tumultuous dream..."

"...Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird you never wert, that from heaven,
or near it, pourest thy full heart in
profuse strains of unpremeditated art.

Higher still and higher from the earth
you springest like a cloud of fire; the
blue deep you wingest, and singing
still dost soar, and soaring ever

In the golden lightning of the sunken
sun, o`er which clouds are bright`ning,
you dost float and run; like an unbodied
joy whose race is just begun.

The pale purple even melts arround thy
flight; like a star of  Heaven, in the broad
daylight you art unseen, but yet i hear
thy shrill delight,

...keen as are the arrows of that silver
sphere, whose intense lamp narrows in
the white dawn clear until we hardly
see - we feel that it is there.
All the earth and air with thy voice is
loud, as, when night is bare, from one
lonely cloud the moon rains out her
beams...and Heaven is overflowed..."


"...Thou art fair, and few are fairer
Of the Nymphs of earth or ocean;
They are robes that fit the wearer -
Those soft limbs of thine, whose motion
Ever falls and shifts and glances
As the live within them dances.

Thy deep eyes, a double Planet,
Gaze the wisest into madness
With soft clear fire, - the wind that fan it
Are those thoughts of  tender gladness
Which, like zephyrs on the billow,
Make thy gentle Soul their pillow.

If, whatever face thou paintest
In those eyes, grows pale with pleasure,
If the fainting soul is faintest
When it hears thy harp`s wild measure,
Wonder not that when thou speakest
Of the weak my heart is weakest.

As dew beneath the wind of morning,
As the sea which whirlwinds waken,
As the birds at thunder`s warning,
As aught mute yet deeply shaken,
As one who feels an unseen spirit
is my heart when thine is near it..."

"...If i were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If i were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power,
and share..."


"...The fountains mingle with the river and
the river with the Ocean, the winds of
Heaven mix for ever with a sweet emotion;
nothings in the world is single; all things by
a law divine in one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not i with thine? -

See the mountains kiss the Heaven and the
waves clasp one another; no sister-flower
whould be forgiven if it disdained its brother;
and the sunlight clasps the earth and the
moonbeams kiss the sea:
what is all this sweet work worth if you kiss
not me...?"

"...What thou art i know not; what is most like thee?
From Rainbow clouds there flow not drops so bright
to see as from my presence showers a rain of Melody..."

...Carmina, quae vultis, cognoscite: carmina vobis,
huic alius mercedis erit. `simul incipit ipse.
tum vero in numerum Faunosque ferasque videres
ludere, tum rigidas motare cacumina quercus;
nec tantum Phoebo gaudet Parnasia rupes,
nec tantum Rhodope miratur et Ismarus Orphea.
Namque canebat, uti magnum per inane coacta
semina terrarumque animaeque marisque fiussent
et liquidi simul ignis; ut his ex omnia primis,
omnia, et ipse tener mundi concreverit orbis;
tum durare solum et discludere Nerea ponto
coeperit et rerum paulatim sumere formas;
iamque novum terrae stupeant lucescere solem,
altius atque cadant summotis nubibus imbres,
incipiant silvae cum primum surgere cumque
rara per ignaros errent animalia montis...


"...Behind them walked the only living thing that shared
their pilgrimage, the dog. And by degree they
reached the briny sea. Them, with souls well disciplined
they reached the northern region, and beheld, with
heaven aspiring hearts, the mighty mountain Himavat...
Whereupon the lake was lapping, the lilacs were
blowing, the chenars were budding, the mountains
were glistening, the waterfalls were playing, the spring
was green, the snow was white, the sky was blue,
the fruit blossoms were clouds: and he was still thirsty.
Then the snow was not glistening, the fruit blossoms
were not clouds, they were mosquitoes, the Himalayas
were hidden by dust, and he was thirstier than ever.
Then the lakes was blowing, the snow was blowing,
the waterfalls were blowing, the fruit blossoms were
blowing, the seasons were blowing - blowing away -
he was blowing away himself, whirled by a storm of
blossoms into the mountains, where now the rain was
falling. But this rain, that fell only on the mountains, did
not assuage his thirst. Nor was he after all in the mountains.
He was standing, among cattle, in a stream.
He was resting, with some ponies, knee-deep beside him
in cool marshes. He was lying face downward drinking
from a lake that reflected the white-capped ranges, the
clouds piled five miles high behind the mighty mountain
Himavat: the purple chenars and a village nestling among
the mulberries. Yet his thirst still remained unquenched.
Perhaps because he was drinking, not water, but lightness,
and promise of lightness - how could he be drinking promise
of lightness? Perhaps because he was drinking, not water,
but certainty of brightness - how could he be drinking certainty
of brightness? Certainty of brightness, promise of lightness,
of light, light, light, and again, of light, light, light, light, light...!"


...Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born!
Or of the Eternal coeternal beam
May I express thee unblamed? since God is light,
And never but in unapproached light
Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee,
Bright effluence of bright essence increate!
Or hear`st thou rather pure ethereal stream,
Whose fountain who shall tell? before the Sun,
Before the Heavens, thou wert, and at the voice
Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest
The rising world of waters dark and deep,
Won from the void and formless Infinite.
Thee I revisit now with bolder wing,
Escaped the Stygian Pool, though long detained
In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight,
Trough utter and trough middle darkness borne,
With other notes than to the Orphean lyre
I sung of Chaos and eternal Night,
Taught by the Heavenly Muse to venture down
The dark descent, and up to reascend,
Though hard and rare - thee I revisit safe,
And feel thy sovran vital lamp, but thou
Revisit`st not these eyes, that roll in vain
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn,
So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs,
Or dim suffusion veiled. Yet not the more
Cease I to wonder where the Muses haunt
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,
Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief
Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath,
That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow,
Nightly I visit, nor sometimes forget
Those other two equalled with me in fate,
So were I equalled with them in renown,
Blind Thamyris and blind Maeonides,
And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old,
Then feed on thoughts that voluntary move
Harmonious numbers, as the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid,
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer`s rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine,
But cloud instead and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and, for the book of knowledge fair,
Presented with a universal blank
Of Nature`s works, to me expunged and rased,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
So much the rather thou, Celestial Light,
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
Irradiate; there plant eyes; all mist from thence
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight...


Ein kunter-bunter Dank geht` u.A. an:
- P. Shelley
- J. Milton
- Vergil
- Cicero
- F. Iosephos
- P. de Herlanes
- M. Lowry
- F. Kafka
- H. Thoreau
- W. Whitman
- G. Russell
- W. Frank
- H.G. Wells
- K. Mann
- A. Huxley
- R. Siodmak
- H. Käutner
- B. Wilder
- F. Zinnemann
- F. Lang
- C. S. Chaplin
- P. Sellers
- B. Lancaster

...und letztendlich an die gesamte Warner-Cartoon-Crew. 



 ...Mais le bon chevalier, remonte sur sa bete,
En s`eloignant, me fit un signe de la tete
Et me cria (j`entends ENCORE cette voix):
`Au moins, prudence! Car c`est bon pour une fois!`...


Soundeinbindung: OST "Gattaca" (Theme by Michael Nyman) 




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