Heinrich Heine Quotes - Page 6

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• I have a most peaceable disposition. My desires are for a modest hut, a thatched roof, but a good bed, good food, very fresh milk and butter, flowers in front of my window and a few pretty trees by my door. And should the good Lord wish to make me really happy, he will allow me the pleasure of seeing about six or seven of my enemies hanged upon those trees.

  Heinrich Heine

  Peace, Crazy, Flower

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• Graves they say are warm'd by glory;
  Foolish words and empty story.

  Heinrich Heine

  Stories, Glory, Foolish

  Heinrich Heine (2016). “Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Heinrich Heine (Illustrated)”, p.787, Delphi Classics

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• With the rose the butterfly's deep in love,
  A thousand times hovering round;
  But round himself, all tender like gold,
  The sun's sweet ray is hovering found.

  Heinrich Heine

  Love, Sweet, Butterfly

  Heinrich Heine (1859). “The Poems of Heine, complete: Translated in the original Metres: With a Sketch of Heine's Life. By Edgar Alfred Bowring”, p.168

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• The Bible is the great family chronicle of the Jews.

  Heinrich Heine

  Jew, Great Family, Chronicles

  Heinrich Heine (1888). “Wit, Wisdom, and Pathos”

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• Terrible as is war, it yet displays the spiritual grandeur of man daring to defy his mightiest hereditary enemy--death.

  Heinrich Heine

  Spiritual, War, Men

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• I live! Red life boils in my veins, earth yields beneath my feet, in the glow of love I embrace trees and statues, and they live in my embrace. Every woman is to me the gift of a world. I revel in the melody of her countenance, and with a single glance of my eye I can enjoy more than others with their every limb through all their lives.

  Heinrich Heine

  Women, Eye, Yield

  Heinrich Heine (1871). “Pictures of travel,”, p.172

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• High in the air rises the forest of oaks, high over the oaks soar the eagle, high over the eagle sweep the clouds, high over the clouds gleam the stars... high over the stars sweep the angels.

  Heinrich Heine

  Stars, Angel, Clouds

  Heinrich Heine (1871). “Pictures of travel,”, p.212

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• There is no Sixth Commandment in art. The poet is entitled to lay his hands on whatever material he finds necessary for his work.

  Heinrich Heine

  Art, Hands, Poet

  Heinrich Heine (1888). “Wit, Wisdom, and Pathos”

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• Music is a strange thing. I would almost say it is a miracle.

  Heinrich Heine

  Miracle, Strange, Music Is

  Letters on the French Stage, 1837.

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• The same fact that Boccaccio offers in support of religion might be adduced in behalf of a republic: "It exists in spite of its ministers.

  Heinrich Heine

  Hypocrisy, Support, Might

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• I am no longer a divine biped. I am no longer the freest German after Goethe, as Ruge named me in healthier days. I am no longer the great hero No. 2, who was compared with the grape-crowned Dionysius, whilst my colleague No. 1 enjoyed the title of a Grand Ducal Weimarian Jupiter. I am no longer a joyous, somewhat corpulent Hellenist, laughing cheerfully down upon the melancholy Nazarenes. I am now a poor fatally-ill Jew, an emaciated picture of woe, an unhappy man.

  Heinrich Heine

  Hero, Men, Laughing

  Heinrich Heine (2016). “Poems and Ballads of Heinrich Heine”, p.12, The Floating Press

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• It is only kindred griefs that draw forth our tears, and each weeps really for himself.

  Heinrich Heine

  Sympathy, Grief, Tears

  Heinrich Heine (1888). “Wit, Wisdom, and Pathos”

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• At first I was almost about to despair, I thought I never could bear it — but I did I bear it. The question remains: how?

  Heinrich Heine

  Despair, Firsts, Bears

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• Newness hath an evanescent beauty.

  Heinrich Heine

  Novelty, Newness

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• Everywhere that a great soul gives utterance to its thoughts, there also is a Golgotha.

  Heinrich Heine

  Giving, Soul, Utterance

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• 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.

  Heinrich Heine

  Long, People, Insulting

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• Reform Judaism is like mock turtle soup-turtle soup without the turtle

  Heinrich Heine

  Turtles, Soup, Reform

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• 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.

  Heinrich Heine

  Ocean, Moving, Moon

  Heinrich Heine (2016). “Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Heinrich Heine (Illustrated)”, p.310, Delphi Classics

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• You talk of our having an idea; we do not have an idea. The idea has us, and martyrs us, and scourges us, and drives us into the arena to fight and die for it, whether we want to or not.

  Heinrich Heine

  Writing, Fighting, Ideas

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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.

  Heinrich Heine

  Night, Skulls, Brain

  Heinrich Heine (1866). “Pictures of travel”, p.173

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• Life is the greatest of blessings and death the worst of evils.... all great, powerful souls love life.

  Heinrich Heine

  Powerful, Love Life, Blessing

  Heinrich Heine (1871). “Pictures of travel,”, p.172

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• 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.

  Heinrich Heine

  Pride, Numbers, Rude

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• First, I thought, almost despairing, This must crush my spirit now; Yet I bore it, and am bearing- Only do not ask me how.

  Heinrich Heine

  Crush, Firsts, Spirit

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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

  Sweet, Lying, Flower

  Heinrich Heine (1871). “Pictures of travel,”, p.221

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• 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.

  Heinrich Heine

  Lonely, Sleep, Ice

  Heinrich Heine (1859). “The Poems of Heine, complete: Translated in the original Metres: With a Sketch of Heine's Life. By Edgar Alfred Bowring”, p.59

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