Heinrich Heine


German Poet, Satirist, Journalist and Literary Critic

Author Quotes

The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night with comfort are downward gazing.

The night is so still, the streets are at rest, this is the house that my love graced, this is the town she?s long since left, but the house is here in the selfsame place. A man?s there too, who stands and stares, and wrings his hands, in violent pain: when I see his look it makes me scared ? The moonlight shows my face again. You doppel-g„nger! You pallid creature! Why do you act that torment through, Love, torturing me on this very corner, for so many nights, those years I knew.

There are more fools in the world than there are people.

What! Think you that my flashes show me only in lightnings to excel? Believe me, friends, you do not know me, for I can thunder quite as well.

Yes, we ought to forgive our enemies, but not until they are hanged.

Since the Exodus, freedom has always spoken with a Hebrew accent.

The Blossoms and leaves in plenty From the apple tree fall each day; The merry breezes approach them, And with them merrily play.

The nightingale appear'd the first, and as her melody she sang, the apple into blossom burst, to life the grass and violets sprang.

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.

Whatever tears one may shed, in the end one always blows one's nose.

Yonder, on the mountain summit, lies the castle wrapped in night; in the valley gleam the sparkles struck from clashing swords in fight. Brothers they who thus in fury fierce encounter hand to hand; say, what cause could make a brother 'gainst a brother turn his brand? Countess Laura's beaming glances did the fatal feud inflame, kindling both with equal passion for the fair and noble dame. Which hath gained the fair one's favor? Which shall win her for his bride? ? Vain to scan her heart's inclining; draw the sword, let that decide. Wild and desperate grows the combat, clashing strokes like thunder fly; all! Beware, ye savage warriors! Evil powers by night are nigh. Woe for von, ye bloody brothers! Woe for thee, thou bloody vale! By each other's swords expiring, sink the brothers, stark and pale. Many a century has departed, many a race has found a tomb, yet from yonder rocky summits frown those moss-grown towers of gloom; and within the dreary valley fearful sights are seen by night; there, us midnight strikes, the brothers still renew their ghastly fight.

Of the giant trees of Ganges,

Sleep is good, death is better, but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all.

The eyes of spring, so azure, are peeping from the ground; they are the darling violets, that I in nosegays bound.

The oaks with solemnity shook their heads; the twigs of the birch-trees, in token of warning, nodded,--and I exclaim'd: "Dear Monarch, forgive what I've spoken!"

There, where one burns books, one in the end burns men.

When books are burned in the end people will be burned too.

You are like a flower.

Of the seaman's anxious life?

Sleep is lovely, death is better still, not to have been born is of course the miracle.

The foolish race of mankind are swarming below in the night; they shriek and rage and quarrel -- and all of them are right.

The old dream comes again to me: with may-night stars above, we two sat under the linden-tree and swore eternal love. Again and again we plighted troth, we chattered, and laughed, and kissed; to make me well remember my oath you gave me a bite on the wrist. O darling with the eyes serene, and with the teeth so white! The vows were proper to the scene, superfluous was the bite.

They loved each other beyond belief - She was a strumpet, he was a thief.

When I lately stood with a friend before [the cathedral of] Amiens... he asked me how it happens that we can no longer build such piles? I replied: "Dear Alphonse, men in those days had convictions (Ueberzeugungen), we moderns have opinions (Meinungen) and it requires something more than an opinion to build a Gothic cathedral.

You should only attempt to borrow from those who have but few of this world's goods, as their chests are not of iron, and they are, besides, anxious to appear wealthier than they really are.

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German Poet, Satirist, Journalist and Literary Critic