Ludwig Tieck,
The Pictures; The Betrothing: Novels
“ All is one, and harmonizes in our souls.""Except Eulenböck's nose," cried the librarian, quite drunk: "that has no touch of scarlet, no transitions in its tones, to blend it with the face; the dark red purple roasts in its magic kitchen, as the beet-root waxes red under ground in the realms of damp night, though quite secluded from the sun. Can this excrescence belong to the life? Can the god of wine so have pampered it? Never! It is a clumsy shell, an ugly case for malice and lies.""Puffy emptiness," cried the Bookseller, "brittle splendour, frail mortality! ”
