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The air grows cool and darkles, The Rhine flows calmly on The mountain summit sparkles In the light of the setting sun.
Heinrich Heine
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Heinrich Heine
Age: 58 †
Born: 1797
Born: December 13
Died: 1856
Died: February 17
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Essayist
Journalist
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Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
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Rhine
Flow
Sparkles
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Sun
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Summit
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Flows
More quotes by Heinrich Heine
Where books are burned in the end people will be burned too.
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All our contemporary philosophers perhaps without knowing it are looking through eyeglasses that Baruch Spinoza polished. Spinoza was a philosopher who earned his livelihood by grinding lenses.
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Reform Judaism is like mock turtle soup-turtle soup without the turtle
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The men of action are, after all, only the unconscious instruments of the men of thought.
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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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I fell asleep reading a dull book and dreamed I kept on reading, so I awoke from sheer boredom.
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Out of my own great woe I make my little songs.
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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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There is no Sixth Commandment in art. The poet is entitled to lay his hands on whatever material he finds necessary for his work.
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I have never seen an ass who talked like a human being, but I have met many human beings who talked like asses.
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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.
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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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Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.
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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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I call'd the devil, and he came, And with wonder his form did I closely scan He is not ugly, and is not lame, But really a handsome and charming man. A man in the prime of life is the devil, Obliging, a man of the world, and civil A diplomatist too, well skill'd in debate, He talks quite glibly of church and state.
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Pretty women without religion are like flowers without perfume.
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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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You cannot feed the hungry on statistics.
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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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Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.
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