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The deepest truth blooms only from the deepest love.

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
Deepest
Truth
Love
Blooms

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Wherever books are burned, human beings are destined to be burned too.
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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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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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Thought precedes action as lighting does thunder.
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The devil take these people and their language! They take a dozen monosyllabic words in their jaws, chew them, crunch them and spit them out again, and call that speaking. Fortunately they are by nature fairly silent, and although they gaze at us open-mouthed, they spare us long conversations.
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In earlier religions the spirit of the time was expressed through the individual and confirmed by miracles. In modern religions the spirit is expressed through the many and confirmed by reason.
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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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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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Never let a fool kiss you, or a kiss fool you. Oh, what lies there are in kisses!
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Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.
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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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So we keep asking, over and over,Until a handful of earthStops our mouths -But is that an answer?
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The lotus flower is troubled At the sun's resplendent light With sunken head and sadly She dreamily waits for the night.
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Wild, dark times are rumbling toward us, and the prophet who wishes to write a new apocalypse will have to invent entirely new beasts, and beasts so terrible that the ancient animal symbols of St. John will seem like cooing doves and cupids in comparison.
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He only profits from praise who values criticism.
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What lies lurk in kisses.
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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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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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Everywhere that a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha.
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Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.
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