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While we are indifferent to our good qualities, we keep on deceiving ourselves in regard to our faults, until we come to look on them as virtues.

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
Come
Esteem
Looks
Faults
Good
Regard
Virtue
Deceiving
Quality
Deceit
Lying
Indifferent
Keep
Virtues
Look
Qualities

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Like a great poet, Nature knows how to produce the greatest effects with the most limited means.
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Atheism is the last word of theism
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Oh fair, oh sweet and holy as dew at morning tide, I gaze on thee, and yearnings, sad in my bosom hide.
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Matrimony the high sea for which no compass has yet been invented.
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Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.
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We know only that our entire existence is forced into new paths and disrupted, that new circumstances, new joys and new sorrows await us, and that the unknown has its uncanny attractions, alluring and at the same time anguishing.
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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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In politics, as in life, we must above all things wish only for the attainable.
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The butterfly long loved the beautiful rose, And flirted around all day While round him in turn with her golden caress, Soft fluttered the sun's warm ray.... I know not with whom the rose was in love, But I know that I loved them all. The butterfly, rose, and the sun's bright ray, The star and the bird's sweet call.
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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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It is an ancient story Yet is it ever new.
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The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above.
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I fell asleep reading a dull book and dreamed I kept on reading, so I awoke from sheer boredom.
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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 foolish race of mankind are swarming below in the night they shriek and rage and quarrel - and all of them are right.
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Christ rode on an ass, but now asses ride on Christ.
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The nightingale appear'd the first, And as her melody she sang, The apple into blossom burst, To life the grass and violets sprang.
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