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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
Author
Essayist
Journalist
Literary Critic
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Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
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Spirit
Thought
Despairing
Firsts
Bore
First
Bearing
Must
Bores
Crush
Almost
More quotes by Heinrich Heine
Wild, dark times are rumbling toward us, and the prophet who wishes to write a new apocalypse will have to invent entirely new beasts, and beasts so terrible that the ancient animal symbols of St. John will seem like cooing doves and cupids in comparison.
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All our contemporary philosophers perhaps without knowing it are looking through eyeglasses that Baruch Spinoza polished. Spinoza was a philosopher who earned his livelihood by grinding lenses.
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The men of action are, after all, only the unconscious instruments of the men of thought.
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He who fights with priests may make up his mind to have his poor good name torn and befouled by the most infamous lies and the most cutting slanders.
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The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above.
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Everywhere that a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha.
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Pretty women without religion are like flowers without perfume.
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Thought precedes action as lighting does thunder.
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Poverty sits by the cradle of all our great men and rocks all of them to manhood.
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Where words leave off, music begins.
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I have never seen an ass who talked like a human being, but I have met many human beings who talked like asses.
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As the stars are the glory of the sky, so great men are the glory of their country, yea, of the whole earth. The hearts of great men are the stars of earth and doubtless when one looks down from above upon our planet, these hearts are seen to send forth, a silvery light just like the stars of heaven.
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And over the pond are sailing Two swans all white as snow Sweet voices mysteriously wailing Pierce through me as onward they go. They sail along, and a ringing Sweet melody rises on high And when the swans begin singing, They presently must die.
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Glow-worms on the ground are moving, As if in the torch-dance circling.
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He only profits from praise who values criticism.
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There is no Sixth Commandment in art. The poet is entitled to lay his hands on whatever material he finds necessary for his work.
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All I really want is enough to live on, a little house in the country... and a tree in the garden with seven of my enemies hanging in it.
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The devil take these people and their language! They take a dozen monosyllabic words in their jaws, chew them, crunch them and spit them out again, and call that speaking. Fortunately they are by nature fairly silent, and although they gaze at us open-mouthed, they spare us long conversations.
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Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.
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The air grows cool and darkles, The Rhine flows calmly on The mountain summit sparkles In the light of the setting sun.
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