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Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.
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
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Publicist
Writer
Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
Nature
Perfumes
Perfume
Scent
Flowers
Smell
Flower
Feelings
More quotes by Heinrich Heine
Wherever books are burned, human beings are destined to be burned too.
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There is one thing on earth more terrible than English music, and that is English painting.
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Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.
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Don't send a poet to London.
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The men of the past had convictions, while we moderns have only opinions.
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In the image of the lion made He kittens small and curious.
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God will forgive me. It's his job.
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No talent, but yet a character. [Ger., Kein talent, doch ein Charakter.]
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Each violet peeps from its dwelling to gaze at the bright stars above.
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Nature, like a true poet, abhors abrupt transitions.
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What lies lurk in kisses.
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Newness hath an evanescent beauty.
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I call'd the devil, and he came, And with wonder his form did I closely scan He is not ugly, and is not lame, But really a handsome and charming man. A man in the prime of life is the devil, Obliging, a man of the world, and civil A diplomatist too, well skill'd in debate, He talks quite glibly of church and state.
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The propaganda of communism possesses a language which every people can understand. Its elements are simply hunger, envy, death.
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Reform Judaism is like mock turtle soup-turtle soup without the turtle
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On the waves of the brook she dances by, The light, the lovely dragon-fly She dances here, she dances there, The shimmering, glimmering flutterer fair. And many a foolish young beetle's impressed By the blue gauze gown in which she is dressed They admire the enamel that decks her bright, And her elegant waist so slim and slight.
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The arrow belongs not to the archer when it has once left the bow the word no longer belongs to the speaker when it has once passed his lips, especially when it has been multiplied by the press.
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The stones here speak to me, and I know their mute language. Also, they seem deeply to feel what I think. So a broken column of the old Roman times, an old tower of Lombardy, a weather- beaten Gothic piece of a pillar understands me well. But I am a ruin myself, wandering among ruins.
Heinrich Heine
He that marries is like the dogs who was married to the Adriatic. He knows not what there is in that which he marries mayhap treasures and pearls, mayhap monsters and tempests, await him.
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The gazelles so gentle and clever Skip lightly in frolicsome mood.
Heinrich Heine
