German - Dramatist | October 17, 1813 - February 19, 1837
We are only puppets, our strings are being pulled by unknown forces.
Georg Buchner
UnknownStringsBeingPuppetsForces
The life of the wealthy is one long Sunday.
LifeLongSundayWealthy
A good man with a good conscience doesn't walk so fast.
GoodWalkManGood ManFast
The stars are scattered all over the sky like shimmering tears, there must be great pain in the eye from which they trickled.
StarsGreatSkyPainTearsEye
The death clock is ticking slowly in our breast, and each drop of blood measures its time, and our life is a lingering fever.
LifeTimeDeathLife Is ABlood
Dying people often become childish.
PeopleBecomeChildishDyingOften
Revolution is like Saturn, it devours its own children.
ChildrenRevolutionOwnSaturnLike
Whoever finishes a revolution only halfway, digs his own grave.
RevolutionHalfwayOwnOnlyGrave
Peace to the shacks! War on the palaces!
PeaceWarPalaces
The world is chaos. Nothingness is the yet-to-be-born god of the world.
GodChaosWorldNothingness
That is a long word: forever!
LongForeverWord
Death is the most blessed dream.
DeathBlessedDreamMost
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