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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.
Heinrich Heine
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Heinrich Heine
Age: 58 †
Born: 1797
Born: December 13
Died: 1856
Died: February 17
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Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
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More quotes by Heinrich Heine
Out of my own great woe I make my little songs.
Heinrich Heine
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.
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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.
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God will pardon me. It is His trade.
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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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Every age has its problem, by solving which humanity is helped forward.
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A lonely fir-tree is standing On a northern barren height It sleeps, and the ice and snow-drift Cast round it a garment of white.
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Where words leave off, music begins.
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What lies lurk in kisses.
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The deepest truth blooms only from the deepest love.
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You cannot feed the hungry on statistics.
Heinrich Heine
Religion cannot sink lower than when somehow it is raised to a state religion ... It becomes then an avowed mistress.
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Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid
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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.
Heinrich Heine
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.
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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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The cloudlets are lazily sailing O'er the blue Atlantic sea And mid the twilight there hovers A shadowy figure o'er me.
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Life is all too wondrous sweet, and the world is so beautifully bewildered it is the dream of an intoxicated divinity.
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He who fights with priests may make up his mind to have his poor good name torn and befouled by the most infamous lies and the most cutting slanders.
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Matrimony the high sea for which no compass has yet been invented.
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