'It is not a lack of talent, I believe, which keeps most German scholars from expressing themselves about religion and philosophy in a popularly understandable manner. Rather, I think that they fear the results of their own thinking, which they thus do not dare to communicate to the people' (p. 9).
'The ultimate fate of Christianity thus depends on whether we still need it. This religion was a blessing for suffering humanity during eighteen centuries. It was providential, divine, holy. Every way in which it was helpful to civilization - taming the strong, strengthening the tame, connecting peoples through a common feeling and a common language, and whatever else its apologists have thought of praising it for - all this even is negligible in comparison to that great consolation which it has provided to humanity. Eternal glory is due to the symbol of that suffering God, the savior with the crown of thorns, Christ crucified, whose blood was, as it were, the balsam of relief which poured into the wounds of humanity' (p. 14).
'These gothic cathedrals: how perfectly they harmonize with the cult and how the idea of the Church itself reveals itself in them! Everything strives upward here, everything transubstantiates itself: the stone sprouts into branches and foliage and becomes tree; the fruit of the grapevine and wheat becomes blood and flesh; man becomes God; God becomes pure spirit! Christian life in the Middle Ages is a fertile, inexhaustibly precious material for poets. Only Christianity could have produced such bold contrasts on earth, such bright-colored pains, and such bizarre beauties, that one might well think they could never have existed in reality and that all of it is just a colossal fever dream, indeed, the fever dream of an insane God' (p. 14).
'But one man was there, I am persuaded of this, who did not think of himself, but only of the divine interests which he was to represent. This man was Martin Luther, the poor monk, whom Providence had selected to break that Roman world-power, against which even the most powerful emperors and the boldest wise men had fought in vain. ... Luther is not only the greatest, but also the most German man of our history. In his character, all the virtues and faults of the Germans are unified in the most magnificent way, and he represents in person the wonder of Germany. He also had characteristics which we seldom find together, and which we normally think of as the most extreme opposites. He was at the same time a dreamy mystic and a practical man of deeds. His thoughts not only had wings, but also hands; he spoke and acted. ... The same man who cursed like a fishwife could also be as soft as a tender virgin. ... He was full of the most tremulous fear of God, full of sacrifice to honor the Holy Spirit, and he could sink himself into pure spirituality; and yet he knew well the splendors of this earth and treasured them, and from his mouth came the splendid motto: "Who loves not wine, women, and song, remains a fool his whole life long." He was a complete person, I would even say, an absolute person in whom spirit and matter are undivided. To call him a spiritualist would be just as wrong as to call him a sensualist. How should I say it, he had something elemental, incomprehensible, and miraculous, as we find in all men of Providence, something frightfully naive, awkwardly wise, sublimely narrow minded, and unconquerably demonic' (pp. 29-30).
'[Since] Luther, one no longer distinguished between theological and philosophical truth, and one debated openly and without fear in vernacular German and in the public market' (p. 33).
'I still must declare most certainly that Mr. Schelling, in his earlier phase, when he was still a philosopher, did not differ in the least from Spinoza. He merely took a different route to the same philosophy' (p. 53).
'We thus see, a few centuries after the birth of Christ, the rise of a religion which will always astonish humanity and elicit the most dreadful admiration, even from the last generations ... Yet this religion was all too sublime, all too pure, all too good for this same earth, and, here, it was only possible to proclaim its idea in theory, but never to put it into practice. The attempt to implement this idea produced innumerable glorious phenomena in history which will remain subjects for the songs and tales of poets for a long time to come. But, as is clear in the final analysis, the attempt to implement the idea of Christianity failed most miserably, and this unfortunate effort demanded incalculable sacrifices from humanity - whose dismal consequence is the social unease in all of Europe today' (p. 55).
'No one says it, but everybody knows it; pantheism is the open secret of Germany' (pp. 58-9).
'[Jacobi] was nothing but a quarrelsome sneak, who, disguising himself in a philosopher's cloak, made his way in among the philosophers, first whimpering to them about his love and his tender soul, and then letting loose against reason' (p. 59).
'Wolff was the first to successfully introduce the German language into philosophy' (p. 61).
'Spener was the Scotus Eriugena of Protestantism. Just as Eriugena founded Catholic mysticism with his translation of the legendary Dionysius Areopagita, so Spener founded Protestant Pietism with his collections of devotional literature' (p. 63).
'As Luther overthrew the papacy, so Mendelssohn overthrew the Talmud, and in exactly the same way: by rejecting tradition, declaring the Bible to be the source of religion, and translating its most important part. He thus destroyed Jewish Catholicism as Luther destroyed the Christian version. Indeed, the Talmud is the Catholicism of the Jews. It is a Gothic cathedral, overloaded, to be sure, with childish embellishments, but also reaching audaciously to the heavens in a gigantic way which astonishes us' (p. 69).
'Since Luther, Germany has not produced a greater or better man than Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. These two are our pride and joy' (p. 71).
'You, Luther! - Great, misunderstood man! ... You saved us from the yoke of tradition; who will save us from the even more unbearable yoke of the letter! Who will finally bring us a Christianity as you yourself would have taught; as Christ himself would have taught!' (Lessing, quoted p. 75).
'Take note of this, you proud men of deeds. You are nothing but the unconscious servants of those men of thought, who, often in modest silence, have plotted out all your doings in advance. Maximilian Robespierre was nothing but the hand of Jean Jacques Rousseau, the bloody hand, which, from the womb of his time, pulled out a body for the soul which Rousseau made. The restless anxiety which haunted the life of Jean Jacques, did it perhaps arise because he sensed in spirit what sort of midwife his thoughts needed to come bodily into the world?' (p. 77).
'This book [Kant's first Critique] is the sword with which deism was executed in Germany' (p. 78).
'What a remarkable contrast between the external life of this man [Kant] and his destructive, world-crushing thought!' (p. 79 - cf. the Rozanov quote about Kant's 'stillness').
'Why, though, did Kant write his Critique of Pure Reason in the grey, dry style of a paper bag?' (p. 80).
'The Critique of Pure Reason, as I have said, is Kant's main work, and his other writings can be seen as more or less dispensable or, at the most, as commentaries' (p. 82).
'After the tragedy comes the farce. Up to now, Immanuel Kant has, as relentless philosopher, played the tragic hero: he has stormed heaven, he has disposed of the whole crew, the ruler of the world swims, unprovable, in his own blood, there is now no more mercy, no fatherly benevolence, no reward in the hereafter for abstinence now, the immortality of the soul lies in its final agonies ... and old Lampe stands there with his umbrella under his arm, watching in dismay, his face dripping with anxious sweat and tears. Seeing this, Immanuel Kant takes pity and shows that he is not merely a great philosopher but also a good person. He thinks, and half with goodwill and half with irony, he speaks: "Old Lampe has to have a God, otherwise the poor man cannot be happy - people, however, should be happy in this world - that is what practical reason says - well, what do I know? - maybe we can let practical reason vouch for the existence of God." As a result of this argument, Kant distinguishes between theoretical and practical reason and with the latter, as with a magic wand, he again animates the corpse of deism which had been killed by theoretical reason' (p. 87).
'Germany was placed upon a philosophical course by Kant, and philosophy became a matter of national importance' (p. 88).
'Fichtean idealism is among the most colossal errors ever concocted by the human spirit. It is more godless and damned than the crudest materialism' (p. 102).
'Unlike the cases of Kant and Fichte, there is no main work of Schelling which can be seen as the center of his philosophy. It would be unjust to judge Mr. Schelling by the content of one book, and strictly by the letter. Rather, one must read his books chronologically and follow the gradual development of his thought, holding fast to the basic idea. Indeed, it also seems to me to be necessary, not infrequently, to determine where thought ends and poetry begins. For Mr. Schelling is one of those creatures to whom nature gave more poetic inclination than potency, and who thus unable to satisfy the daughters of Parnassus, flee into the woods of philosophy and enter into barren marriages with abstract hamadryads' (p. 107).
'Strange! After having spent my whole life knocking about every dance-floor of philosophy, giving myself over to every orgy of the intellect, flirting with every possible system without being satisfied, like Messalina after a night of dissipation - now I find myself suddenly with the same point of view as Uncle Tom, that of the Bible, and I kneel down next to that black, pious man with the same devotion. ... With all my knowledge, I have gotten no farther than that poor ignorant black man who has hardly learnt to spell. Poor Tom, it is true, seems to see even deeper things in the holy book than I; I, for whom especially the last part was never entirely clear. Perhaps Tom understands it better because there are more beatings in it, in particular, those incessant lashes of the whip which sometimes repulsed me in most unaesthetic manner, when I read the gospels and the apostles. Such poor black slaves read at the same time with their backs and thus understand much better than we do' (from Heine's Confessions [1854]; p. 210).
'I owe my enlightenment simply to reading a book. - A book? Yes, and it is an old, simple book, modest like nature, also just as natural: a book that looks everyday and unpretentious, like the sun which warms us and the bread which nourishes us; a book, which looks at us with a kindness so intimate and blessed, like an old grandmother who also reads daily in the book with her dear trembling lips and with her spectacles on her nose - and this book is called quite simply "The Book," the Bible. One rightly calls it also the Holy Scripture; whoever has lost his God can find him again in this book, and whoever never knew him finds here the breath of the divine Word gently blowing over him. The Jews ... knew very well what they were doing when, during the burning of the Second Temple, they left the gold and silver sacrificial vessels, the lamps and the candelabras, even the breastplate of the High Priest with its large gems, and saved only the Bible. ... I will quote [Yeshua ben Sira ben Eleazar's] beautiful words here... "No one has ever learned all there is to learn from it; and no one will ever fully sound its depths. For its meaning is richer than any ocean, and its word deeper than any abyss"' (from the Preface to the 2nd Edition of Heine's History [1852]; pp. 7-8).