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Heinrich Heine -
Love
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My songs, they say, are poisoned.
How else, love, could it be?
Thou hast, with deadly magic,
Poured poison into me.
Heinrich Heine
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Christianity - and that is its greatest merit - has somewhat mitigated that brutal Germanic love of war, but it could not destroy it. Should that subduing talisman, the cross, be shattered, the frenzied madness of the ancient warriors, that insane Berserk rage of which Nordic bards have spoken and sung so often, will once more burst into flame. This talisman is fragile, and the day will come when it will collapse miserably. Then the ancient stony gods will rise from the forgotten debris and rub the dust of a thousand years from their eyes, and finally Thor with his giant hammer will jump up and smash the Gothic cathedrals.
Heinrich Heine
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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
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I will not mourn, although my heart is torn, Oh, love forever lost! I will not mourn.
Heinrich Heine
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I had once a beautiful fatherland.
The oak tree
Grew so high there, violets nodded softly.
It was a dream.
It kissed me in German and spoke in German
(You would hardly believe
How good it sounded) the words: "I love you!"
It was a dream.
Heinrich Heine
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Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens above us
The very clouds move on.
Heinrich Heine
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Our sweetest hopes rise blooming. And then again are gone, They bloom and fade alternate, And so it goes rolling on. I know it, and it troubles My life, my love, my rest, My heart is wise and witty, And it bleeds within my breast.
Heinrich Heine
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Life is the greatest of blessings and death the worst of evils.... all great, powerful souls love life.
Heinrich Heine
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In blissful dream, in silent night, There came to me, with magic might, With magic might, my own sweet love, Into my little room above.
Heinrich Heine
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Literary history is the great morgue where all seek the dead ones whom they love, or to whom they are related.
Heinrich Heine
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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
Quote of the day
Good authors, too, who once knew better words Now only use four-letter words Writing prose — Anything goes.
Cole Porter
Heinrich Heine
Creative Commons
Born:
December 13, 1797
Died:
February 17, 1856
(aged 58)
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