Hermann Hesse
Hermann Hesse
Hermann Karl Hessewas a German-born Swiss poet, novelist, and painter. His best-known works include Steppenwolf, Siddhartha, and The Glass Bead Game, each of which explores an individual's search for authenticity, self-knowledge and spirituality. In 1946, he received the Nobel Prize in Literature...
NationalityGerman
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth2 July 1877
CityCalw, Germany
CountryGermany
hurt love-you suffering
Love your suffering. Do not resist it, do not flee from it. It is only your aversion to it that hurts, nothing else.
love stars winning
She stood before him and surrendered herself to him and sky, forest, and brook all came toward him in new and resplendent colors, belonged to him, and spoke to him in his own language. And instead of merely winning a woman he embraced the entire world and every star in heaven glowed within him and sparkled with joy in his soul. He had loved and had found himself. But most people love to lose themselves.
reality literature behinds
Meaning and reality were not hidden somewhere behind things, they were in them, in all of them.
love-is stronger violence
Love is stronger than violence.
heart wind tree
A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening...
breathing heaven ego
...Every ego so far from being a unity is in the highest degree a manifold world, a constellated heaven, a chaos of forms, of states and stages, of inheritances and potentialities. It appears to be a necessity as imperative as eating and breathing for everyone to be forced to regard this chaos as a unity and to speak of his ego as though is was a one-fold and clearly detached and fixed phenomenon. Even the best of us shares this delusion.
coward steppenwolf willing-to-die
You are willing to die, you coward, but not to live.
trust art magic
The highest art... sets down its creations and trusts in their magic, without fear of not being understood.
communication littles different
Everything becomes a little different as soon as it is spoken out loud.
home sky earth
And some day there will be nothing left of everything that has twisted my life and grieved it and filled me so often with such anguish. Some day, with the last exhaustion, peace will come and the motherly earth will gather me back home. It won't be the end of things, only a way of being born again, a bathing and a slumbering where the old and the withered sink down, where the young and new begin to breathe. Then, with other thoughts, I will walk along streets like these, and listen to streams, and overhear what the sky says in the evening, over and over and over.
inspirational stupid writing
Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.
time home house
One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect the whole world looks like home for a time.
dream sweet hurt
At the first kiss I felt something melt inside me that hurt in an exquisite way. All my longings, all my dreams and sweet anguish, all the secrets that slept deep within me came awake, everything was transformed and enchanted, and everything made sense.
flow fit wave
No permanence is ours, we are a wave that flows to fit whatever form it finds.