When you see all the gravestones which have sunk down and been worked away by the feet of churchgoers, and even that the churches themselves have collapsed over their own tombs, you can still think of life after death as a second life, which you enter into as a portrait or an inscription, and in which you remain longer than you do in your actual living life. But sooner or later this portrait, this second existence, is also extinguished. As over men, so over memorials time will not let itself be deprived of its rights. (165)
From Goethe, Johann. Elective Affinities. 1809. Trans. R. J. Hollingdale. New York: Penguin, 1982. Print.
Only in very recent years have the voices that ask whether it is worth teaching handwriting at all […] been gaining much of a hearing. An impressive delay, given that since 1968, Germany has been simply stuffed with people insisting on their right to insult all forms of authority and, in extreme cases, put a bomb underneath it for no very obvious reason. […] Quite a lot of them made a point of addressing their best friends as ‘arschloch’, which means ‘arsehole’, as a clean break from bourgeois conventions. It is odd that they seem not to have succeeded in making a serious dent on national models of handwriting until the other day. (106)
From: Hensler, Philip. The Missing Ink: the Lost Art of Handwriting. New York: Faber and Faber, 2012. Print.