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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
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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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More quotes by Heinrich Heine
Be entirely tolerant or not at all follow the good path or the evil one. To stand at the crossroads requires more strength than you possess.
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Every age has its problem, by solving which humanity is helped forward.
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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 men of the past had convictions, while we moderns have only opinions.
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And over the pond are sailing Two swans all white as snow Sweet voices mysteriously wailing Pierce through me as onward they go. They sail along, and a ringing Sweet melody rises on high And when the swans begin singing, They presently must die.
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The gazelles so gentle and clever Skip lightly in frolicsome mood.
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In vain would I seek to discover Why sad and mournful am I, My thoughts without ceasing brood over A tale of the time gone by.
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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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When'er into thine eyes I see, All pain and sorrow fly from me. [Ger., Wenn ich in deine Augen sch' So schwindet all' mein Leid und Weh.]
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The deepest truth blooms only from the deepest love.
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Talking and eloquence are not the same: to speak and to speak well are two things. A fool may talk, but a wise man speaks.
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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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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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Reason exercises merely the function of preserving order, is, so to say, the police in the region of art. In life it is mostly a cold arithmetician summing up our follies.
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In politics, as in life, we must above all things wish only for the attainable.
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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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Laughter is wholesome. God is not so dull as some people make out. Did not He make the kitten to chase its tail.
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Thought is invisible nature.
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Freedom is a new religion, the religion of our time.
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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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