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My heart resembles the ocean has storm, and ebb and flow and many a beautiful pearl lies hid in its depths below.
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
Ocean
Lies
Resembles
Lying
Pearl
Beautiful
Pearls
Many
Depths
Heart
Storm
Depth
Flow
More quotes by Heinrich Heine
Ask me not what I have, but what I am.
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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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In the image of the lion made He kittens small and curious.
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What lies lurk in kisses.
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Every age has its problem, by solving which humanity is helped forward.
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Like a great poet, Nature knows how to produce the greatest effects with the most limited means.
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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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Perfumes are the feelings of flowers.
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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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He that marries is like the dogs who was married to the Adriatic. He knows not what there is in that which he marries mayhap treasures and pearls, mayhap monsters and tempests, await him.
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There is only one writer in whom I find something that reminds me of the directness of style which is found in the Bible. It is Shakespeare.
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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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Out of my great sorrows, I make little songs.
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The cloudlets are lazily sailing O'er the blue Atlantic sea And mid the twilight there hovers A shadowy figure o'er me.
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Perhaps already I am dead, And these perhaps are phantoms vain - These motley phantasies that pass At night through my disordered brain. Perhaps with ancient heathen shapes, Old faded gods, this brain is full Who, for their most unholy rites, Have chosen a dead poet's skull.
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Atheism is the last word of theism
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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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Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.
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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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If the Romans had been obliged to learn Latin, they would never have found time to conquer the world.
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