Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe. (№ 393983)

Suddenly I thought about how much I love this place, this land! This Ettersberg! These low hills! And my soul is pierced through and through - suddenly you'll ever have to leave! The land where you found so many things like happiness, which can dream of a death, where you go from pleasure to displeasure in the ever-ringing life if you have to leave him with a stick in his hands, as you left their homeland. Tears came to my eyes, and I felt strong enough to move it. - Strong! - so insensitive.