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First, I thought, almost despairing, This must crush my spirit now Yet I bore it, and am bearing- Only do not ask me how.
Heinrich Heine
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Heinrich Heine
Age: 58 †
Born: 1797
Born: December 13
Died: 1856
Died: February 17
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Essayist
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Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
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Whether a revolution succeeds or fails people of great hearts will always be sacrificed to it.
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Life is all too wondrous sweet, and the world is so beautifully bewildered it is the dream of an intoxicated divinity.
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Religion cannot sink lower than when somehow it is raised to a state religion ... It becomes then an avowed mistress.
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Lo, sleep is good, better is death--in sooth The best of all were never to be born.
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My heart resembles the ocean has storm, and ebb and flow and many a beautiful pearl lies hid in its depths below.
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The beauteous dragonfly's dancing By the waves of the rivulet glancing She dances here and she dances there, The glimmering, glittering flutterer fair. Full many a beetle with loud applause Admires her dress of azure gauze, Admires her body's bright splendour, And also her figure so slender...
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Money is the god of our time, and Rothschild is his prophet.
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Laughter is wholesome. God is not so dull as some people make out. Did not He make the kitten to chase its tail.
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The swan, like the soul of the poet, By the dull world is ill understood.
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It must require an inordinate share of vanity and presumption, too, after enjoying so much that is good and beautiful on earth, to ask the Lord for immortality in addition to it all.
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Sweet May hath come to love us, Flowers, trees, their blossoms don And through the blue heavens above us The very clouds move on.
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If thou lookest on the lime-leaf, Thou a heart's form will discover Therefore are the lindens ever Chosen seats of each fond lover.
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Where words leave off, music begins.
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He is noble who both feels and acts nobly.
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The negro king desired to be portrayed as white. But do not laugh at the poor African for every man is but another negro king, and would like to appear in a color different from that with which Fate has bedaubed him.
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But a day must come when the fire of youth will be quenched in my veins, when winter will dwell in my heart, when his snow flakes will whiten my locks, and his mists will dim my eyes. Then my friends will lie in their lonely grave, and I alone will remain like a solitary stalk forgotten by the reaper.
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In politics, as in life, we must above all things wish only for the attainable.
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You cannot feed the hungry on statistics.
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Where books are burned in the end people will be burned too.
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Jews who long have drifted from the faith of their fathers... are stirred in their inmost parts when the old, familiar Passover sounds chance to fall upon their ears.
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