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Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.
Heinrich Heine
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Heinrich Heine
Age: 58 †
Born: 1797
Born: December 13
Died: 1856
Died: February 17
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Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
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More quotes by Heinrich Heine
God will pardon: That's His business.
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Experience is a good school. But the fees are high.
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Reform Judaism is like mock turtle soup-turtle soup without the turtle
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Glow-worms on the ground are moving, As if in the torch-dance circling.
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He is noble who both feels and acts nobly.
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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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If one has no heart, one cannot write for the masses.
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Every age has its problem, by solving which humanity is helped forward.
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Newness hath an evanescent beauty.
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Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.
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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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Reason exercises merely the function of preserving order, is, so to say, the police in the region of art. In life it is mostly a cold arithmetician summing up our follies.
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Nature, like a true poet, abhors abrupt transitions.
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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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Perfumes are the feelings of flowers, and as the human heart, imagining itself alone and unwatched, feels most deeply in the night-time, so seems it as if the flowers, in musing modesty, await the mantling eventide ere they give themselves up wholly to feeling...
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God will forgive me. It's his job.
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The deepest truth blooms only from the deepest love.
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Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid
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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.
Heinrich Heine
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.
Heinrich Heine