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Where books are burned in the end people will 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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Writer
Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
People
Burned
Books
Reading
Ends
Book
More quotes by Heinrich Heine
Wherever books are burned, human beings are destined to be burned too.
Heinrich Heine
Nature, like a true poet, abhors abrupt transitions.
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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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Music is a strange thing. I would almost say it is a miracle.
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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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Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.
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Pretty women without religion are like flowers without perfume.
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He who fears to venture as far as his heart urges and his reason permits, is a coward he who ventures further than he intended to go, is a slave.
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Where words leave off, music begins.
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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.
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Sweet May hath come to love us, Flowers, trees, their blossoms don And through the blue heavens above us The very clouds move on.
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The spring's already at the gate With looks my care beguiling The country round appeareth straight A flower-garden smiling.
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Music is a strange thing. I would almost say it is a miracle. For it stands halfway between thought and phenomenon, between spirit and matter.
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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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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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Like a great poet, Nature knows how to produce the greatest effects with the most limited means.
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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
He only profits from praise who values criticism.
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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.
Heinrich Heine
If one has no heart, one cannot write for the masses.
Heinrich Heine
