Hanns Heinz Ewers > Quotes

“When the Devil was a woman,
When Lilith wound
Her ebony hair in heavy braids,
And framed
Her pale features all 'round
With Botticelli's tangled thoughts,
When she, smiling softly,
Ringed all her slim fingers
In golden bands with brilliant stones,
When she leafed through Villiers
And loved Huysmans,
When she fathomed Maeterlinck's silence
And bathed her Soul
In Gabriel d'Annunzio's colors,
She even laughed
And as she laughed,
The little princess of serpents sprang
Out of her mouth.
Then the most beautiful of she-devils
Sought after the serpent,
She seized the Queen of Serpents
With her ringed finger,
So that she wound and hissed
Hissed, hissed
And spit venom.
In a heavy copper vase;
Damp earth,
Black damp earth
She scattered upon it.
Lightly her great hands caressed
This heavy copper vase
All around,
Her pale lips lightly sang
Her ancient curse.
Like a children's rhyme her curses chimed,
Soft and languid
Languid as the kisses,
That the damp earth drank
From her mouth,
But life arose in the vase,
And tempted by her languid kisses,
And tempted by those sweet tones,
From the black earth slowly there crept,
Orchids -
When the most beloved
Adorns her pale features before the mirror
All 'round with Botticelli's adders,
There creep sideways from the copper vase,
Orchids-
Devil's blossoms which the ancient earth,
Wed by Lilith's curse
To serpent's venom, has borne to the light
Orchids-
The Devil's blossoms-

"The Diary Of An Orange Tree”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“And in the livid night there creeps a basilisk, spawned by the moon after its strange fashion. The moon – eternally barren - is its father, but its mother is the sand, barren likewise: this is the mystery of the desert. Many say that it is an animal, but this is not so, it is a thought, growing there where there is no earth and no seed: a thought which sprang from that which is eternally barren, and now assumes strange forms which life does not know. This is the reason that no one can describe this being, because it is like nothingness, indescribable.”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Alraune

“You cannot deny, my dear friend, that there are in existence creatures who are neither man nor beast, but strange unearthly creations, born of the nefarious passions that arise in distorted minds.”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Alraune

“Drink, drink! Bacchus is the enemy of Venus.

"From The Diary Of An Orange Tree”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“Wednesday. March 16 Isn't it strange that it hasn't occurred to me to put my relationship with Clarimonda on a more serious basis than these endless games. Last night, I thought about this...I can, of course, put on my hat and coat, walk down two flights of stairs, take five steps across the street and mount two flights to her door which is marked with a small sign that says "Clarimonda." Clarimonda what? I don't know. Something. Then I can knock and...

Up to this point I imagine everything very clearly, but I cannot see what should happen next. I know that the door opens. But then I stand before it, looking into a dark void. Clarimonda doesn't come. Nothing comes. Nothing is there, only the black, impenetrable dark.

"The Spider”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“Therefore, perception, which I count as the most wonderful of instruments, has just as little reality as that of my poor senses. However I might conceive of matter, it is always something different from what I understood it to be. But it is not only that I can never completely perceive the essence of matter, but also it's that it has no being. Spray water on a hot oven and it is instantaneously vaporized, if I throw a lump of sugar into a cup of tea it melts. If I break the cup I'm drinking out of, I'll have nothing but shards - but no longer a cup. If, however, being can be turned into not-being with the flip of the wrist, then it is not worth talking about it as being. Not-being, death, is the real essence of all matter, life is only a negation of this essence for an infinitely short span of time. But the thought of the drop of water, or the lump of sugar remains immutable, it can never be broken, vaporated, or melted. So isn't this thought to be spoken of with much greater right as reality, than fluctuating material is?

"From The Diary Of An Orange Tree”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“The thought may seem remarkable, but perhaps not so much so as it would at first. First of all, there was never anything unusual about the Baron's sex life, even if it may tickle one's curiosity when presented in so balanced a fashion, and there is certainly nothing unique about the case. On the contrary, I would like to intimate that I have never, especially in artistic circles, met an individual who could be called psychically monosexual through and through. Our manliness-with all due respect-does not preclude a certain amount of femininity, thank God; it would be a great pity if it were otherwise. This 'second phase', then, which is so prevalent in the Baron's psychosexual makeup, this balanced perception of the feminine side of his nature, only seems special when studied in a superficial way. It should rather be seen as something entirely natural and normal. For if within an utterly male body with clearly defined male sexual feelings a soul is contained - I use the word in an abstract sense in order to get my point across more easily and directly - a soul, I say, which is animated by feminine feelings, generally speaking these feelings won't be strong enough to vanquish the natural restraints that stand in the way of an outspoken male-male bonding. The instinct remains focused on the female, and even when it finds itself in a feminine position vis-a-vis the soul, the apparent ambivalent result is only seeming. The masculine yearning for the female body basically remains, even when it finds itself flooded by feminine feelings, and the ostensible homosexuality is merely a mask. I do not consider Baron von Friedel's case to be anything more than an exceptionally clear-cut textbook case describing a phenomenon I have, for my part, seen often enough, if hardly ever in such pronounced form.

"The Death Of Baron Jesus Maria Von Friedel”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“Wednesday, March 23 I know now that I love Clarimonda. That she has entered into the very fiber of my being. It may be that the loves of other men are different. But does there exist one head, one ear, one hand that is exactly like hundreds of millions of others? There are always differences, and it must be so with love. My love is strange, I know that, but is it any the less lovely because of that? Besides, my love makes me happy.

If only I were not so frightened. Sometimes my terror slumbers and I forget it for a few moments, then it wakes and does not leave me. The fear is like a poor mouse trying to escape the grip of a powerful serpent. Just wait a bit, poor sad terror. Very soon, the serpent love will devour you.

"The Spider”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“To the non-suspecting citizen at large, things are entirely plain: he sees naught but a man and a woman in love. But upon closer inspection things are, in fact, incredibly complicated: it is the love of a man who feels like a woman, but feels attracted to a woman instead of other men; a woman who, in turn, feels like a man and not like a woman, but nonetheless loves the man! Eventually the complexity of the problem is annulled entirely naturally: the mutual feelings are experienced as normal and only slightly tainted by a suspicion of inversion.

"The Death Of Baron Jesus Maria Von Friedel”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“Kaplan Schröder stand bei dem Justizrat, schimpfte mächtig, daß nun der Termin immer näher rücke, an dem das Bürgerliche Gesetzbuch eingeführt werden solle. Kaum zehn Jahre mehr, und aus war’s mit dem Code Napoléon. Und man hatte dasselbe Recht im Rheinlande, wie drüben in Preußen. Gar nicht auszudenken!
„Ja“, seufzte der Justizrat, „und die Arbeit! Was man da alles wieder lernen muß. Als ob man nicht gerade genug zu tun hätte.“ Ihm war’s im Grunde völlig gleichgültig: er würde sich ebensowenig mit der Lektüre des Bürgerlichen beschäftigen, wie er je das Rheinische Recht studiert hatte. Gott sei Dank, seine Examina hatte man ja gemacht.”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Alraune

“I know, you were much closer to the painter than any of us. In spite of that, your lips, too, will want to curl up into a smile. There are levels of tragedy whose mind-numbing properties can only be checked by laughter, and what story does not contain an inkling of the grotesque? When we Germans will have learnt to laugh like the Gauls, we will truly be the rulers of this earth; even more so than before, one might add."

"John Hamilton Llewellyn's End”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“And so the Red Cyclists duly arrived, accompanied by the Chief Cyclist (in Berlin he would be called General Director to the Messenger Boys). The box in question was big and oblong, and I had taken great pains to provide admonitions such as "Glass!", "Fragile!", "Careful!" and "This side up!" The old egg box contained nothing more than my humble remains, of course, but I had refrained from letting them nail the lid shut because I emphatically wanted to be seen as the beautiful corpse that I was. I also wanted to keep a watchful eye on the proceedings at hand.

"My Burial”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“Wo es hinkam, wuchs aus der Nacht ein kleinstes Geräusch. Knirschte hell eine Diele, löste sich ein Nagel, bog sich ein altes Möbel. Knarrte es in den verquollenen Läden oder klirrte seltsam zwischen den Gläsern –

Alles schlief in dem grossen Hause am Rhein. Aber irgend etwas schlurfte langsam herum –”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Alraune

“Sabía que es imposible que una bandera ondee contra el viento. Como es imposible arrojar una sombra al mediodía. Y, no obstante, arrojaba una larga sombra. Y, no obstante, la bandera rojigualda ondeaba contra el viento.”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Vampiro

“Clarimonde sitzt am Fenster und spinnt. Fäden, lange, dünne, unendlich feine Fäden. Sie macht ein Gewebe daraus, ich weiß nicht, was es werden soll. Und ich kann nicht begreifen, wie sie dies Netz machen kann, ohne immer wieder die zarten Fäden zu verwirren und zu zerreißen. Es sind wunderliche Muster in ihrer feinen Arbeit, Fabeltiere und merkwürdige Fratzen.”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, The Spider

“Im frühen Mittelalter, im Anschluss an die Kreuzzüge, entwickelte sich dann die deutsche Alraunsage. Der Verbrecher, splinternackt am Kreuzwege gehenkt, verliert in dem Augenblicke, in dem das Genick bricht, seinen letzten Samen. Dieser Samen fällt zur Erde und befruchtet sie: aus ihm entsteht das Alräunchen, ein Männlein oder Weiblein. Nachts zog man aus, es zu graben; wenn es zwölf Uhr schlug, musste man die Schaufel unter dem Galgen einsetzen. Aber man tat wohl, sich die Ohren fest zu verstopfen, mit Watte und gutem Wachs, denn wenn man das Männlein ausriss, schrie es so entsetzlich, dass man niederfiel vor Schreck – noch Shakespeare erzählt das.”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Alraune

“Wie willst du leugnen, liebe Freundin, dass es Wesen gibt - keine Menschen, keine Tiere - seltsame Wesen, die aus der verruchten Lust absurder Gedanken entsprangen?”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Alraune

“Get out of here, all of you," I continued. "This grave has been paid for by me and it belongs to nobody else. I died and am allowed to organize my funeral as I see fit. So, begone! My home is my castle and I will not tolerate any trespassers."

"It's a scandal!" cried the decorated one. "A scandal without precedent!"

A Public Prosecutor turned to me. "These inanities should be called to a halt," he hissed. "I arrest you in the name of the law, and I command the policemen to do their duty!"

The policemen descended into the hole and placed their broad paws on my shoulder. But I looked at them sharply and said: "Have you no respect for the dead?"

"But he is not dead! This is a complete sham!" a particularly brave Judge's apprentice cried out.

"Ah, I beg your pardon!" I laughed, handing over my death certificate to the policemen. "Here, see for yourself. And in case the coroner's report is not sufficient you can always have a whiff, old donkey that you are."

The decorated one leaned towards me. "The devil!" he exclaimed, hastily drawing back.

"Please keep your distance, Sir," I admonished him. "Do I have to remind you of your whereabouts? It is a red-hot day in July, close to noon and you are in the presence of a corpse. I have every right to stink!"

("My Burial")”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“The actor passed him his cigarette case. "No, you must tell us all about it. One should always be reminded of the fact that even in this best of worlds the blood still flows freely."

"The Dead Jew”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Nachtmahr: Strange Tales

“Er aber, Manasse, sah recht gut, dass der Tod da war, obwohl sie noch lebte. Längst war er da, schlich überall herum in diesem Hause. Spielte Blindekuh mit dieser Frau, die sein Mal trug, liess ihre gezeichneten Kinder schreien und rasen im Garten. Freilich – er galoppierte nicht. Ging hübsch im Trab, da hatte sie recht. Aber nur – – so aus Laune. Nur so – – weil es ihm Spass machte, zu spielen mit dieser Frau und ihren lebensgierigen Kindern wie die Katze mit den Fischlein im Goldfischglas –”
― Hanns Heinz Ewers, Alraune