With regard to higher literature, and indeed all writings not connected with science, Einstein has little to say. He himself rarely directs conversation on to this topic, and still less rarely does he give vent to an enthusiastic outburst that betrays warm interest. He restricts himself to making short, aphoristic comments, and now and then allows his listener to gather that he can easily imagine an existence without literature. The number of accepted novels, tales, and poetic works which he has not read is legion, and all the pretentiously artistic, historical, and critical writings that are added to them have attracted only a very momentary interest from him. I have never seen him attracted in any way by the promising aspect of some new book intended for diversion. If such a one happens to get into his hands, he merely places it among the others. At times I was constrained to think of Caliph Omar's words: "If the book contains what is already in the Koran, it is unnecessary; if it contains something else, it is harmful." It is harmful at least in the sense that it robs us of time that may be better spent in another way. I am purposely exaggerating here to make it quite clear that Einstein finds full satisfaction in a narrow circle of literature, and that he experiences no loss if numerous new works pass by and escape his notice. Nevertheless, he speaks with reverence of a series of authors, to whom he owes enrichment: among them are the classical writers, who naturally occupy the highest position, with certain exceptions, which he equally naturally wishes to be taken as a personal opinion and not in the sense of a critical valuation. With him the difference reveals itself in the intonation from which we may read a greater or lesser measure of affection. When he says "Shakespeare," the eternal greatness seems to be inherent in the actual sound of the name. When he says "Goethe," we notice a slight undertone of dissonance, which may be interpreted without difficulty. He admires him with the pathos of distance, but no warmth glows through this pathos.