The result was beyond my guessing.
One night he asked me what my scheme of life was.
On the point of improvizing one of an impressive character, I stopped and confessed: 'I have so many that I may say I have none.' Expecting reproof, I begged him not to think the worse of me for that.
'Quite otherwise,' said he.

'I have never cared to read deliberately in the book you open to me, my good young man.' 'The book, Herr Professor ?' 'Collect your wits.

We will call it Shakespeare's book; or Gothe's, in the minor issues.

No, not minor, but a narrower volume.

You were about to give me the answer of a hypocrite.