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Glow-worms on the ground are moving, As if in the torch-dance circling.

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
Dance
Moving
Circling
Torch
Torches
Glow
Worms
Ground

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It is an ancient story Yet is it ever new.
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Lyrical poetry is much the same an every age, as the songs of the nightingales in every spring-time.
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It must require an inordinate share of vanity and presumption, too, after enjoying so much that is good and beautiful on earth, to ask the Lord for immortality in addition to it all.
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In dark ages people are best guided by religion, as in a pitch-black night a blind man is the best guide he knows the roads and paths better than a man who can see. When daylight comes, however, it is foolish to use blind, old men as guides.
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If thou lookest on the lime-leaf, Thou a heart's form will discover Therefore are the lindens ever Chosen seats of each fond lover.
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The negro king desired to be portrayed as white. But do not laugh at the poor African for every man is but another negro king, and would like to appear in a color different from that with which Fate has bedaubed him.
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The foolish race of mankind are swarming below in the night they shriek and rage and quarrel - and all of them are right.
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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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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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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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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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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 the meaning of my sadness there is an old fairy tale that I cannot get out of my mind.
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In the image of the lion made He kittens small and curious.
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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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No talent, but yet a character. [Ger., Kein talent, doch ein Charakter.]
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Christ rode on an ass, but now asses ride on Christ.
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Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.
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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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Never let a fool kiss you, or a kiss fool you. Oh, what lies there are in kisses!
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