Wednesday, Jan. 31, 1827.

“But,” said I, “is this Chinese romance one of their best?”
“By no means,” said Goethe; “the Chinese have thousands of them, and had when our forefathers were still living in the woods.
“I am more and more convinced,” he continued, “that poetry is the universal possession of mankind, revealing itself everywhere and at all times in hundreds and hundreds of men. One makes it a little better than another, and swims on the surface a little longer than another–that is all. Herr von Mathisson must not think that he is the man, nor must I think that I am the man; but each must say to himself that the gift of poetry is by no means very rare, and that nobody need think very much of himself because he has written a good poem….”

Translated by John Oxenford. Northpoint Press, 1984. Page 133.