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Out of my own great woe I make my little songs.

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
Make
Woe
Songs
Song
Littles
Little
Great

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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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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.
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Thought is invisible nature.
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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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Religion cannot sink lower than when somehow it is raised to a state religion ... It becomes then an avowed mistress.
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Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.
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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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Reform Judaism is like mock turtle soup-turtle soup without the turtle
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All I really want is enough to live on, a little house in the country... and a tree in the garden with seven of my enemies hanging in it.
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True eloquence consists in saying all that is necessary, and nothing but what is necessary.
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Matrimony the high sea for which no compass has yet been invented.
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Our sweetest hopes rise blooming. And then again are gone, They bloom and fade alternate, And so it goes rolling on. I know it, and it troubles My life, my love, my rest, My heart is wise and witty, And it bleeds within my breast.
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As the stars are the glory of the sky, so great men are the glory of their country, yea, of the whole earth. The hearts of great men are the stars of earth and doubtless when one looks down from above upon our planet, these hearts are seen to send forth, a silvery light just like the stars of heaven.
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He only profits from praise who values criticism.
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The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above.
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Talking and eloquence are not the same: to speak and to speak well are two things. A fool may talk, but a wise man speaks.
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Glow-worms on the ground are moving, As if in the torch-dance circling.
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The arrow belongs not to the archer when it has once left the bow the word no longer belongs to the speaker when it has once passed his lips, especially when it has been multiplied by the press.
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I do not know if she was virtuous, but she was ugly, and with a woman that is half the battle.
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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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