The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above.
Jews who long have drifted from the faith of their fathers... are stirred in their inmost parts when the old, familiar Passover sounds chance to fall upon their ears.
As the moon's fair image quaketh In the raging waves of ocean, Whilst she, in the vault of heaven, Moves with silent peaceful motion.
Pretty women without religion are like flowers without perfume.
I take pride in never being rude to anyone on this earth, which contains a great number of unbearable villains who set upon you to recount their sufferings and even recite their poems.
Life is all too wondrous sweet, and the world is so beautifully bewildered; it is the dream of an intoxicated divinity.
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.
A lonely fir-tree is standing On a northern barren height; It sleeps, and the ice and snow-drift Cast round it a garment of white.
It is only kindred griefs that draw forth our tears, and each weeps really for himself.
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.
The foolish race of mankind are swarming below in the night; they shriek and rage and quarrel - and all of them are right.
The negro king desired to be portrayed as white. But do not laugh at the poor African; for every man is but another negro king, and would like to appear in a color different from that with which Fate has bedaubed him.
If one has no heart, one cannot write for the masses.
God has given us speech in order that we may say pleasant things to our friends, and tell bitter truths to our enemies.
At noon I feel as though I could devour all the elephants of Hindostan, and then pick my teeth with the spire of Strasburg cathedral; in the evening I become so sentimental that I would fain drink up the Milky Way without reflecting how indigestible I should find the little fixed stars, and by night there is the Devil himself broke loose in my head and no mistake.
He is noble who both feels and acts nobly.
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.
As the stars are the glory of the sky, so great men are the glory of their country, yea, of the whole earth. The hearts of great men are the stars of earth; and doubtless when one looks down from above upon our planet, these hearts are seen to send forth, a silvery light just like the stars of heaven.
Photography is a witness against the mistaken opinion that art is an imitation of nature.
The nightingale appear'd the first, And as her melody she sang, The apple into blossom burst, To life the grass and violets sprang.
Lyrical poetry is much the same an every age, as the songs of the nightingales in every spring-time.
All our contemporary philosophers perhaps without knowing it are looking through eyeglasses that Baruch Spinoza polished. Spinoza was a philosopher who earned his livelihood by grinding lenses.
Out of my own great woe I make my little songs.
Our souls must become expanded by the contemplation of Nature's grandeur, before we can fully comprehend the greatness of man.
Oh, they loved dearly: their souls kissed, they kissed with their eyes, they were both but one single kiss.
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