It is only kindred griefs that draw forth our tears, and each weeps really for himself.
Heinrich HeineA pine tree standeth lonely In the North on an upland bare; It standeth whitely shrouded With snow, and sleepeth there. It dreameth of a Palm tree Which far in the East alone, In the mournful silence standeth On its ridge of burning stone.
Heinrich HeineEvery period of time is a sphinx that throws itself into the abyss as soon as its riddle has been solved.
Heinrich HeinePerhaps 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