Quotes from Erich Maria Remarque

Lengvai lyg šok?ja ap?jo ji aplink lov?, pastat? taur? greta sav?s ant grind? ir pasir?ž?. Svetimos saul?s nurusvinta ji nesidrov?jo savo nuogumo, kaip moteris, kuri ne tiktai žino, kad jos geidžia, bet ir ne kart? šitai yra gird?jusi.

Wir reden nicht viel, aber wir sind voll zarterer Rücksicht miteinander, als ich mir denke, dass Liebende es sein können. Wir sind zwei Menschen, zwei winzige Funken Leben, draußen ist die Nacht und der Kreis des Todes. Wir sitzen an ihrem Rande, gefährdet und geborgen...wir sind uns nahe mit unseren Herzen und die Stunde ist wie der Raum: Überflackert von einem sanftem Feuer gehen die Empfindungen hin und her...

Es ist eine tödliche Spannung, die wie ein schartiges Messer unser Rückenmark entlang kratzt. Die Beine wollen nicht mehr, die Hände zittern, der Körper ist eine dünne Haut über mühsam unterdrücktem Wahnsinn, über einem gleich hemmungslos ausbrechenden Gebrüll ohne Ende.

Suviše glasno? Šta je bilo suviše glasno? Samo tišina.

I breathe deeply and say over to myself: - 'You are at home. You are at home.' But a sense of strangeness will not leave me, I cannot feel at home amongst these things . . . I am not myself there. There is a distance, a veil between us.

Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?" I ask. "A couple of columns over there got it in the neck." The cries continued. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly. "Wounded horses," says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning.

Amžina žmonijos scena: prievartos tarnai, j? auka, o greta - visada ir visais laikais - tre?ias, ži?rovas, kuris nepakelia rankos apginti auk? ir nebando jos išvaduoti, nes bijosi d?l sav?s. Ir kaip tik d?l to jam nuolatos gresia pavojus.

What was the use trying to make safe and sure our little life? Sooner or later the great wave must come and sweep all away.

Stebuklas, kai j? patiri, niekuomet n?ra pilnas, tik atmintis padaro j? tokiu.

Only the stupid conquer in life; the other man foresees too many obstacles and becomes uncertain before he starts.

Kiekvien? akimirk? jau?iame, kad negalime laim?s išlaikyti, ir n? nebandome <...> Bet jeigu mes nem?giname su?iupti jos ir sutur?ti savo šiurkš?iomis rankomis, tai gal ji, niekieno nebaidoma, išlieka m?s? aki? gilumoje? Gal ji išlieka ten, kol gyvos tos akys?

M? ridic.sunt foarte liniÈ™tit.Lunile È™i anii n-au decât s? treac?, nu-mi mai pot lua nimic, n-au ce s?-mi mai ia. Sunt atât de singur È™i f?r? aÈ™tept?ri, încât le pot privi în fa?? f?r? team?. ViaÈ›a care m-a purtat de-a lungul acestor ani e înc? prezent? în mâinile È™i ochii mei. Am învins-o sau nu - nu È™tiu -Nimic nou pe frontul de vest, cap. 12

Strange to say, Behm was one of the first to fall. He got hit in the eye during an attack, and we left him lying for dead. We couldn't bring him with us, because we had to come back helter-skelter. In the afternoon suddenly we heard him call, and saw him crawling about in No Man's Land. He had only been knocked unconscious. Because he could not see, and was mad with pain, he failed to keep under cover, and so was shot down

Obuze, mitraliere, aburi de gaze, flotile de tancuri - strivire, devorare, moarte.

Ah! Mother, Mother! You still think I am a child - why can I not put my head in your lap and weep? Why have I always to be strong and self-controlled? I would like to weep and be comforted too, indeed I am little more than a child; in the wardrobe still hang short, boy's trouser - it is such a little time ago, why is it over?

Let the months and years come, they can take nothing from me, they can take nothing more. I am so alone, and so without hope that I can confront them without fear.

Po danu Lisabon ima ne?eg naivno teatralnog što privla?i i o?arava — ali je no?u grad iz bajke koji se sa blistavo osvijetljenim terasama spušta ka moru, kao neka nagizdana žena što se naginje ka svom tamnoplavom ljubavniku.

Before my mother's tremulous anxiety I recover my composure. Now I can walk about and talk and answer questions without fear of having suddenly to lean against the wall because the world turns soft as rubber and my veins become brimstone.

Our life alternates between billets and the front. We have almost grown accustomed to it; war is the cause of death like cancer and tuberculosis, like influenza and dysentery. The deaths are merely more frequent, more varied and terrible.

Peace, a fireplace, books, silence ... Before this was seen as one philistinism. Now these are dreams of a lost paradise.

We have yielded no more than a few hundred yards of it as a prize to the enemy. But on every yard there lies a dead man.

Albert, what would you do if it were suddenly peace-time again?" "There won't be any peace-time," says Albert bluntly. "Well, but if—" persists Müller, "what would you do?" "Clear out of this!" growls Kropp. "Of course. And then what?" "Get drunk," says Albert. "Don't talk rot, I mean seriously—" "So do I," says Kropp, "what else should a man do?

Nobody taught us at school how to light a cigarette in a rainstorm, or how it is still possible to make a fire even with soaking wet wood – or that the best place to stick a bayonet is into the belly, because it can't get jammed in there, the way it can in the ribs.

Tjaden comes back. He is still worked up and joins in the debate again straight away by asking how a war starts in the first place. 'Usually when one country insults another one badly,' answers Kropp, a little patronizingly. But Tjaden isn't going to be put off. 'A country? I don't get it. A German mountain can't insult a French mountain, or a river, or a forest, or a cornfield.