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Don't send a poet to London.

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
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Writer
Dusseldorf
Christian Johann Heinrich Heine
Heinrich Heine
Christian Heine
Christian Johann Heinrich Harry Heine
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London
Poet

More quotes by Heinrich Heine

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Music is a strange thing. I would almost say it is a miracle.
Heinrich Heine
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Like a great poet, Nature produces the greatest results with the simplest means. These are simply a sun, trees, flowers, water and love.
Heinrich Heine
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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.
Heinrich Heine
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Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.
Heinrich Heine
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Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.
Heinrich Heine
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It is an ancient story Yet is it ever new.
Heinrich Heine
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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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You cannot feed the hungry on statistics.
Heinrich Heine
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Everywhere that a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha.
Heinrich Heine
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God will forgive me. It's his job.
Heinrich Heine
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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.
Heinrich Heine
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Those who begin by burning books will end by burning people.
Heinrich Heine
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Sweet May lies fresh before us, To life the young flowers leap, And through the Heaven's blue o'er us The rosy cloudlets sweep.
Heinrich Heine
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Christianity is an idea, and as such is indestructible and immortal, like every idea.
Heinrich Heine
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Matrimony the high sea for which no compass has yet been invented.
Heinrich Heine
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Whenever books are burned, men also in the end are burned.
Heinrich Heine
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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.
Heinrich Heine
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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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Atheism is the last word of theism
Heinrich Heine
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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.
Heinrich Heine