The gazelles so gentle and clever Skip lightly in frolicsome mood.
In the image of the lion made He kittens small and curious.
Since the Exodus, freedom has always spoken with a Hebrew accent.
Christianity is an idea, and as such is indestructible and immortal, like every idea.
This was but a prelude; where books are burnt human-beings will be burnt in the end
Round my cradle shimmered the last moonbeams of the eighteenth century and the first morning rays of the nineteenth.
Twelve Dancings are dancing, and taking no rest, And closely their hands together are press'd; And soon as a dance has come to a close, Another begins, and each merrily goes.
A 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.
Ich glaube sogar, durch Leidensk a« mpfe k o« nnten dieTiere zu Menschen werden. I believe that by suffering even animals could be made human.
With his nightcaps and the tatters of his dressing-gown he patches up the gaps in the structure of the universe.
That was only the beginning - where one burns books, one will finally also burn people.
No talent, but yet a character. [Ger., Kein talent, doch ein Charakter.]
Das war ein vorspeil nur; That was only a prelude; dort wo man Buecher verbrennt, Where one burns books, vebrennt man auch am Ende One will also burn people Menchen. Eventually.
There, where one burns books... one, in the end, burns men.
First, I thought, almost despairing, This must crush my spirit now; Yet I bore it, and am bearing- Only do not ask me how.
God will forgive me. It's his job." Heine said this on his deathbed (1856). Hilarious. He must have thought that up years before and counted the seconds to use it.
So we keep asking, over and over,Until a handful of earthStops our mouths -But is that an answer?
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 Her light-blue, gauze-like, neat attire; They laud her blue complexion, And think her shape perfection.
The cloudlets are lazily sailing O'er the blue Atlantic sea; And mid the twilight there hovers A shadowy figure o'er me.
Lo, sleep is good, better is death--in sooth The best of all were never to be born.
I consider it a degradation and a stain on my honor to submit to baptism in order to qualify myself for state employment in Prussia.
And once again we plighted our troth, And titter'd, caress'd, kiss'd so dearly.
The eyes of spring, so azure, Are peeping from the ground; They are the darling violets, That I in nosegays bound.
Oh fair, oh sweet and holy as dew at morning tide, I gaze on thee, and yearnings, sad in my bosom hide.
When'er into thine eyes I see, All pain and sorrow fly from me. [Ger., Wenn ich in deine Augen sch' So schwindet all' mein Leid und Weh.]
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