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Nature, like a true poet, abhors abrupt transitions.

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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Writer
Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
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Abrupt
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Transitions
Transition
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True
Nature

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What lies lurk in kisses.
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Thought is invisible nature.
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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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Freedom is a new religion, the religion of our time.
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Perhaps already I am dead, And these perhaps are phantoms vain - These motley phantasies that pass At night through my disordered brain. Perhaps with ancient heathen shapes, Old faded gods, this brain is full Who, for their most unholy rites, Have chosen a dead poet's skull.
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So we keep asking, over and over,Until a handful of earthStops our mouths -But is that an answer?
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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.
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The men of action are, after all, only the unconscious instruments of the men of thought.
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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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Each violet peeps from its dwelling to gaze at the bright stars above.
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Matrimony the high sea for which no compass has yet been invented.
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Music is a strange thing. I would almost say it is a miracle.
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Ask me not what I have, but what I am.
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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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Twelve Dancings are dancing, and taking no rest, And closely their hands together are press'd And soon as a dance has come to a close, Another begins, and each merrily goes.
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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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There, where one burns books... one, in the end, burns men.
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Glow-worms on the ground are moving, As if in the torch-dance circling.
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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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