The earth with yellow pearsAnd overgrown with roses wildUpon the pond is bent,And swans divine,With kisses drunkYou drop your headsIn the sublimely sobering water.But where, with winter come, am ITo find, alas, the floweres, and whereThe sunshineAnd the shadow of… — Friedrich Holderlin Copy Share Image
“What is all that men have done and thought over thousands of years, compared with one moment of love. But in all Nature, too,… — Friedrich Hölderlin Copy Share Image
What has always made a Hell on earth has been that man has tried to make it his Heaven. — Friedrich Holderlin Copy Share Image
“You have a head and a heart? Reveal only one of them, I say; If you reveal both at once, doubly they'll damn you,… — Friedrich Hölderlin Copy Share Image
“Holy spirits, you walk up there in the light, on soft earth. Shining god-like breezes touch upon you gently, as a woman's fingers play music on holy strings. Like sleeping infants the gods breathe without any plan; the spirit flourishes continually in them, chastely kept, as in a small bud, and their holy eyes look out in still eternal clearness.… — Friedrich Holderlin Copy Share
I was raised by the song Of the murmuring grove And loving I learned Among Flowers. — Friedrich Holderlin Copy Share Image
“What love and spirit give cannot be extorted. The state has always been made a hell by man's wanting to make it his heaven. The state is nothing but the coarse husk around the seed of life, the wall around the human fruits and flowers. Yet what good is a wall when the soil of our garden is parched? ...… — Friedrich Holderlin Copy Share
“The God, when he draws near, will the heart stand fast. But, oh my, shame! when of My shame! And let me say at once That I approached to see the Heavenly, And they cast me down, deep down Below the living, into the dark cast down The false priest that I am, to sing, For those who have ears… — Friedrich Hölderlin Copy Share
“Too long now things divine have been cheaply used And all the power of heaven, the kindly, spent In trifling waste by cold and cunning Men without thanks, who when he, the Highest, In person tills their field for them, think they know the daylight and the Thunderer, and indeed Their telescope may find them all, may Count and may… — Friedrich Hölderlin Copy Share
“These fruits are ripe, dipped in fire, Cooked and tested here on earth.” — Friedrich Hölderlin Copy Share Image
