Quote

Sweet May hath come to love us, Flowers, trees, their blossoms don And through the blue heavens above us The very clouds move on.

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
Heaven
Flowers
Moving
Trees
May
Clouds
Come
Blue
Love
Flower
Sweet
Blossoms
Move
Heavens
Tree
Hath

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God has given us speech in order that we may say pleasant things to our friends, and tell bitter truths to our enemies.
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Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.
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If the Romans had been obliged to learn Latin, they would never have found time to conquer the world.
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I consider it a degradation and a stain on my honor to submit to baptism in order to qualify myself for state employment in Prussia.
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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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Money is the god of our time, and Rothschild is his prophet.
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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.
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Wherever books are burned, human beings are destined to be burned too.
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Everywhere that a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha.
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The men of action are, after all, only the unconscious instruments of the men of thought.
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In action, the English have the advantage enjoyed by free men always entitled to free discussion: of having a ready judgment on every question. We Germans, on the other hand, are always thinking. We think so much that we never form a judgment.
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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.
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The beauteous dragonfly's dancing By the waves of the rivulet glancing She dances here and she dances there, The glimmering, glittering flutterer fair. Full many a beetle with loud applause Admires her dress of azure gauze, Admires her body's bright splendour, And also her figure so slender...
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Oh, they loved dearly: their souls kissed, they kissed with their eyes, they were both but one single kiss.
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