She has set herself apart in order to enjoy herself.
Ever she lets new Admirers arise, insatiable, to open her Heart to them.
In Illusion she delights.
Whoever destroys this in himself and others, him she punishes like the most severe Tyrant.
Whoever follows her confidently—him she presses as a child to her Breast.
Her Children are Countless.
To none is she everywhere niggardly but she has Favorites upon whom she lavishes much and to whom she sacrifices much.
Upon Greatness she has fixed her Protection.
She pours forth her Creations out of Nothingness and tells them not whence they came nor whither they go; they are only to go; the Road she knows.
She has few Motive Impulses—never worn out, always effective, always manifold.