Tell me who first did kisses suggest? It was a mouth all glowing and blest; It kissed and it thought of nothing… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
And once again we plighted our troth, And titter'd, caress'd, kiss'd so dearly. — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
Good Luck is a giddy maid, Fickle and restless as a fawn; She smooths your hair; and then the jade Kisses you… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
Oh, they loved dearly: their souls kissed, they kissed with their eyes, they were both but one single kiss. — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
Never let a fool kiss you, or a kiss fool you. Oh, what lies there are in kisses! — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
Oh what lies there are in kisses! And their guile so well prepared! Sweet the snaring is; but this is Sweeter still,… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
Great genius takes shape by contact with another great genius, but, less by assimilation than by friction. — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
Lo, sleep is good, better is death--in sooth The best of all were never to be born. — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
Every age has its problem, by solving which humanity is helped forward. — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
The beauteous dragonfly's dancing By the waves of the rivulet glancing; She dances here and she dances there, The glimmering, glittering flutterer fair. Full… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
I am no longer a divine biped. I am no longer the freest German after Goethe, as Ruge named me in healthier days. I… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
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 Copy Share
Nothing is more futile than theorizing about music. No doubt there are laws, mathematically strict laws, but these laws are not music; they are… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
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 Copy Share Image
“Still is the night, it quiets the streets down, In that window my love would appear; She's long since gone away from this town,… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
