Name a better German author.
sounds like he's full of gas
The problem is the question is akin to asking "name a better Italian author than Dante" - it's literally impossible since Dante and Goethe are, for all practical purposes, the source of their respective nations' literary traditions.
‘There was a king in Thule, he
Was faithful, to the grave,
To whom his dying lady
A golden goblet gave.
He valued nothing greater:
At every feast it shone:
His tears were brimming over,
When he drank there-from.
When he himself was dying
No towns did he with-hold,
No wealth his heir denying,
Except the cup of gold.
He gave a royal banquet,
His knights around him, all,
In his sea-girt turret,
In his ancestral hall.
There the old king stood, yet,
Drinking life’s last glow:
Then threw the golden goblet
Into the waves below.
He saw it falling, drowning,
Sinking in the sea,
Then, his eyelids closing,
Never again drank he.’
Speaking literally, he probably is (just look at him). But considering the fact that he is, for one, an amazing writer himself and, for two, better read than every single person on this board, I'm inclined to believe him.
Probably not superior, but is in the same category.
His theoretical writings are undoubtedly superior - Goethe never wrote anything as enduring and insightful as Schiller's Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man. I also think Schiller was a more consistently successful dramatist - little by Goethe other than Faust interests me, but a number of Schiller's dramas (particularly Wilhelm Tell, Mary Stuart, and the Wallenstein plays) are of great interest.
Of course direct comparison is difficult because Schiller never wrote anything comprable to Wilhelm Meister or Young Wether.
Goethe was a funny guy
Faust (Dancing with the lovely young witch.)
A lovely dream once came to me,
And there I saw an apple-tree,
Two lovely apples, there, did shine, 4130
Tempting me so, I had to climb.
The Young Witch
Apples you love a lot, I know,
That once in Paradise did grow.
I’m deeply moved with joy to feel,
That such my garden does reveal. 4135
Mephistopheles (Dancing with the old witch.)
A vile dream once came to me,
In it, I saw an old cleft tree,
A monstrous crack there met my eyes,
It pleased me, though, despite its size.
The Old Witch
I offer my best greetings to 4140
The knight of the cloven shoe!
He’ll need to have a real stopper,
If he’s not scared of that whopper.