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Sometimes, I feel I am really blessed to be blind because I probably would not last a minute if I were able to see things. Stevie Wonder		Wednesday Jul 02, 2025
		Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969

About Hermann Hesse

	Hermann Hesse
	Hermann Hesse (pronounced [ˈhɛʀman ˈhɛsə]) (2 July 1877 - 9 August 1962) was a German-Swiss poet, novelist, and painter. In 1946, he received the Nobel Prize in Literature. His best known works include Steppenwolf , Siddhartha , and The Glass Bead Game (also known as Magister Ludi) which explore an individual's search for spirituality outside society. Read More

Popular Hermann Hesse Quotes

Our mind is capable of passing beyond the dividing line we have drawn for it. Beyond the pairs of opposites of which the world consists, other, new insights begin.

If you hate someone, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.

Writing is good, thinking is better. Cleverness is good, patience is better.

Wisdom is nothing but a preparation of the soul, a capacity, a secret art of thinking, feeling and breathing thoughts of unity at every moment of life.

Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.

To study history means submitting to chaos and nevertheless retaining faith in order and meaning. It is a very serious task, young man, and possibly a tragic one.

To recognize causes is to think, and through thought alone feelings become knowledge and are not lost, but become real and begin to mature.

The world is not imperfect or slowly evolving along a path to perfection. No, it is perfect at every moment, every sin already carries grace in it.

The true vocation of man is to find his way to himself.

That seems to be the way of things. Everyone takes, everyone gives. Life is like that.

Seeking means: to have a goal; but finding mean: to be free, to be receptive, to have no goal.

Perhaps you seek too much...as a result of your seeking you cannot find.

Most people are like a falling leaf that drifts and turns in the air, flutters, and falls to the ground. But a few others are like stars which travel one defined path: no wind reaches them, they have within themselves their guide and path.

Lovers should not separate from each other after making love without admiring each other, without being conquered as well as conquering, so that no feeling of satiation or desolation arises nor the horrid feeling of misusing or having been misused.

Knowledge can be communicated, but not wisdom. One can find it, live it, be fortified by it, do wonders through it, but one cannot communicate and teach it.

In every truth, the opposite is equally true. A truth can only be expressed and enveloped in words if it is one-sided.

If time is not real, then the dividing line between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion.

Everything that was not suffered to the end and finally concluded, recurred, and the same sorrows were undergone.

Everything becomes a little different as soon as it is spoken out loud.

Every phenomenon on earth is symbolic, and each symbol is an open gate through which the soul, if it is ready, can enter into the inner part of the world, where you and I and day and night are all one.

Everything becomes a little bit different as soon as it is spoken out loud.

The river is everywhere at the same time ... everywhere and the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past, nor the shadow of the future.

Within you there is a stillness and a sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself.

You treat world history as a mathematician does mathematics, in which nothing but laws and formulae exist, no reality, no good and evil, no time, no yesterday, no tomorrow, nothing but an eternal, shallow, mathematical present.

There is no reality except the one contained within us. That is why so many people live such an unreal life. They take the images outside them for reality and never allow the world within to assert itself.

There was once a man, Harry, called the Steppenwolf. He went on two legs, wore clothes and was a human being, but nevertheless he was in reality a wolf of the Steppes. He had learned a good deal of all that people of a good intelligence can, and was a fairly clever fellow. What he had not learned, however, was this: to find contentment in himself and his own life.

If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.

Those who are too lazy and comfortable to think for themselves and be their own judges obey the laws. Others sense their own laws within them.

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