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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.
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
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Writer
Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
Eye
Azure
Violet
Darling
Bound
Bounds
Ground
Spring
Peeping
Eyes
Violets
More quotes by Heinrich Heine
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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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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I fell asleep reading a dull book and dreamed I kept on reading, so I awoke from sheer boredom.
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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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Lyrical poetry is much the same an every age, as the songs of the nightingales in every spring-time.
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In action, the English have the advantage enjoyed by free men always entitled to free discussion: of having a ready judgment on every question. We Germans, on the other hand, are always thinking. We think so much that we never form a judgment.
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While we are indifferent to our good qualities, we keep on deceiving ourselves in regard to our faults, until we come to look on them as virtues.
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Money is the god of our time, and Rothschild is his prophet.
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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 nightingale appear'd the first, And as her melody she sang, The apple into blossom burst, To life the grass and violets sprang.
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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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Nature, like a true poet, abhors abrupt transitions.
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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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The Bible is the great family chronicle of the Jews.
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Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.
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Thought precedes action as lighting does thunder.
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Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.
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The men of the past had convictions, while we moderns have only opinions.
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Where words leave off, music begins.
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He only profits from praise who values criticism.
Heinrich Heine
