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Wherever books are burned, human beings are destined to be burned too.
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
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Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
Books
Human
Humans
Book
Destined
Burned
Wherever
Beings
More quotes by Heinrich Heine
In vain would I seek to discover Why sad and mournful am I, My thoughts without ceasing brood over A tale of the time gone by.
Heinrich Heine
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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Money is the god of our time, and Rothschild is his prophet.
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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
You cannot feed the hungry on statistics.
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The lotus flower is troubled At the sun's resplendent light With sunken head and sadly She dreamily waits for the night.
Heinrich Heine
In the image of the lion made He kittens small and curious.
Heinrich Heine
No talent, but yet a character. [Ger., Kein talent, doch ein Charakter.]
Heinrich Heine
Like a great poet, Nature knows how to produce the greatest effects with the most limited means.
Heinrich Heine
Where words leave off, music begins.
Heinrich Heine
True eloquence consists in saying all that is necessary, and nothing but what is necessary.
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If the Romans had been obliged to learn Latin, they would never have found time to conquer the world.
Heinrich Heine
Sweet May lies fresh before us, To life the young flowers leap, And through the Heaven's blue o'er us The rosy cloudlets sweep.
Heinrich Heine
Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid
Heinrich Heine
Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.
Heinrich Heine
God will pardon: That's His business.
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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.
Heinrich Heine
Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.
Heinrich Heine
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
God has given us speech in order that we may say pleasant things to our friends, and tell bitter truths to our enemies.
Heinrich Heine
