The nightingale appear'd the first, And as her melody she sang, The apple into blossom burst, To life the grass and violets… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
The night comes stealing o'er me, And clouds are on the sea; While the wavelets rustle before me With a mystical melody. — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
And over the pond are sailing Two swans all white as snow; Sweet voices mysteriously wailing Pierce through me as onward they… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share Image
I live! Red life boils in my veins, earth yields beneath my feet, in the glow of love I embrace trees and… — 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
Lo, sleep is good, better is death--in sooth The best of all were never to be born. — Heinrich Heine Copy Share
Ordinarily he was insane, but he had lucid moments when he was merely stupid — Heinrich Heine Copy Share
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
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
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
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
“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
The dragon-fly is dancing,— Is on the water glancing, She flits about with nimble wing, The flickering, fluttering, restless thing. Besotted chafers all admire… — Heinrich Heine Copy Share
There is one thing on earth more terrible than English music, and that is English painting. — Heinrich Heine Copy Share
