The German (n.) is like a woman, you can scarcely ever fathom his depths - he hasn't any.
The German (n.) is representative of everything that is ponderous, viscous and pompously clumsy; all long-winded and wearying kinds of style.
The German (n.) is inviting of a profound and icy mistrust whenever he gets any power into his hands; a residue of that vast horrible fear with which, for long centuries, Europe dreaded the wrath of the Teutonic blond beast.
The German (n.) does not exist as such: he is becoming, he is "developing himself."
The German (n.) drags at his soul, he drags at everything he experiences. He digests his events badly; he never gets "done" with them;
The German (n.) has no fingers for delicate nuances.
The German (n.) belong to the day before yesterday and the day after tomorrow — as yet they have no today.
The German (n.) are an irresponsible race with all culture's great misfortunes on their conscience: at every decisive moment they were thinking of "something else" — the Reformation during the Renaissance, Kant when science had arrived, the "wars of liberation" against Napoleon, the Reich now.