Quotes from Erich Maria Remarque

What if he were to open his mouth and cry out! But he only weeps, his head turned aside. He does not speak of his mother of his brothers or his sisters. He says nothing; all that lies behind him; he is entirely alone now with his little life of nineteen years, and cries because it leaves him.

But I also knew that there was no going back. One can never go back; nothing and no one is ever the same. All that remained was an occasional evening of sadness, the sadness that we all feel because everything passes and because man is the only animal who knows it.

Er drehte die Dusche an. Das kühle Wasser strömte über seine Haut. Er atmete tief und trocknete sich ab. Der Trost der kleinen Dinge. Wasser, Atem, abendlicher Regen. Nur wer allein war, kannte auch sie.

Terror can be endured so long as a man simply ducks; - but it kills, if a man thinks about it.

Albert expresses it: The war has ruined us for everything.

He did indeed always refer to us as swine, but there was, nevertheless, a certain respect in his tone.

Fericirea este o chestiune de propor?ii.

It makes very little difference where one lives, Kate. Some places are more comfortable than others, but it is never important. The only important thing is what one makes of it.

Inimene on suur oma kavatsustes, kuid nõrk nende teostamises. Selles peitubki tema armetus ja võlu.

Look, if you train a dog so that it only eats potatoes, and then after a while you offer it a chunk of meat, it'll still grab it because it's in its nature. And if you offer a man a bit of power, the same thing happens; he'll grab it. It's instinctive, because when it comes down to it, a man is basically a beast, and it's only later that a bit of decency gets smeared on top, the way you spread dripping on your bread.

You may turn into an archangel, a fool, or a criminal - no one will see it. But when a button is missing - everyone sees that.

Petnaest sre?nih godina su kratke - odgovorih. Petnaest nesre?nih godina su duge i pružaju ?oveku mnogo iskustva.

Como é inútil tudo quanto já foi escrito, feito e pensado, quando não se conseguem evitar estas coisas! Devem ser mentiras e insignificâncias, quando a cultura de milhares de anos não conseguiu impedir que se derramassem esses rios de sangue e que existam aos milhares estas prisões, onde se sofrem tantas dores.

Omaks võib nimetada alles seda, mis käes on.

Kättemaksuga üksi saab vähe korda saata. Kättemaks kuulub teise, süngema osa juurde, mis korda tuleb saata, kuid mis tuleb pärast seda?

A word of command has made these silent figures our enemies; a word of command might transform them into our friends. At some table a document is signed by some persons whom none of us knows, and then for years together that very crime on which formerly the world's condemnation and severest penalty fall, becomes our highest aim.

and putrefaction, and fills us with nausea and retching. The nights become quiet and the hunt for copper driving-bands and the silken parachutes of the French star-shells begins. Why the driving-bands are so desirable no one knows exactly. The collectors merely assert that they are valuable. Some have collected so many that they will stoop under the weight of them when we go back.

But is the primary law of this world, where the old rule the young, that one must serve one's time. It is no question of ability. Else what would become of old dodderers who cling to their power?

The facts of life are simple and trivial. Only our imagination gives life to them. It makes the laundry pole of facts a flagstaff of dreams.

His misfortune was that he saw a cherry tree in a garden.

It is the second night," he said. "The dangerous night. The charm of the unknown is gone and the charm of familiarity has not yet come. We'll survive it.

We are not, indeed, in the front-line, but only in the reserves, yet in every face can be read: This is the front, now we are within its embrace.

You don't like to talk about yourself, do you? -I don't even like to think about myself.

We are little flames poorly sheltered by frail walls against the storm of dissolution and madness, in which we flicker and sometimes almost go out. Then the muffled roar of the battle becomes a ring that encircles us, we creep in upon ourselves, and with big eyes stare into the night. Our only comfort is the steady breathing of our comrades asleep, and thus we wait for the morning.