HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

122 i^eine*
RICHTER.
Instead of thought he gives us his
thinking itself. We see the material
activity of his brain; he gives us, as it
were, more brain than thought, and
meanwhile the flashes of his wit skip
about, like the fleas of his heated imagination.
He is the merriest, and, at the
same time, the most sentimental of
authors. In fact, sentimentality always
finally overcomes him, and his
laughter abruptly turns into tears. He
sometimes disguises himself as a gross,
beggarly fellow; but then, like stage
princes, he suddenly unbuttons the
coarse overcoat and reveals the glittering
insignia of his rank.
HEINE ON HIS MATTRESS-GRAVE,
It is a pitiful condition ; a grave without
rest, death without the privileges of
the dead, who need spend no money,
nor write any letters, nor worse still
books. The measure for my coffin was
taken long ago, as also for my necrology;
but I am so long about dying, that it is
beginning to get tiresome for me, as
well as for my friends. But have
patience; everything comes to an end
Some morning ye will find the show-