High in the air rises the forest of oaks, high over the oaks soar the eagle, high over the eagle sweep the clouds, high over the clouds gleam the stars... high over the stars sweep the angels.
Heinrich HeineI fell asleep reading a dull book and dreamed I kept on reading, so I awoke from sheer boredom.
Heinrich HeineLyrical poetry is much the same an every age, as the songs of the nightingales in every spring-time.
Heinrich Heine