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The nightingale appear'd the first, And as her melody she sang, The apple into blossom burst, To life the grass and violets sprang.

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
Firsts
Blossom
First
Burst
Life
Sang
Apple
Sprang
Apples
Violets
Melody
Nightingale
Grass
Nightingales
Appear
Violet

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It is an ancient story Yet is it ever new.
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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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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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No talent, but yet a character. [Ger., Kein talent, doch ein Charakter.]
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The eyes of spring, so azure, Are peeping from the ground They are the darling violets, That I in nosegays bound.
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The swan, like the soul of the poet, By the dull world is ill understood.
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Poverty sits by the cradle of all our great men and rocks all of them to manhood.
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Experience is a good school. But the fees are high.
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Everywhere that a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha.
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Wherever they burn books they will also, in the end, burn human beings.
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The propaganda of communism possesses a language which every people can understand. Its elements are simply hunger, envy, death.
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Whether a revolution succeeds or fails people of great hearts will always be sacrificed to it.
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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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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 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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The deepest truth blooms only from the deepest love.
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My heart resembles the ocean has storm, and ebb and flow and many a beautiful pearl lies hid in its depths below.
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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 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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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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