Quotes from Erich Maria Remarque

They are more to me than life, these voices, they are more than motherliness and more than fear; they are the strongest, most comforting thing there is anywhere; they are the voices of my comrades.

Summer of 1918 - Never has life in its niggardliness seemed to us so desirable as now; - the red poppies in the meadows round our billets, the smooth beetles on the blades of grass, the warm evenings in the cool, dim rooms, the black mysterious trees of the twilight, the stars and the flowing waters, dreams, and long sleep - O Life, life, life!

Die Stadt, leise schwimmend im späten Mondlicht und dem Sausen der Automobilmotoren. Häuserreihen, lang, endlos sich dehnend, Fensterreihen, und hinter sie gepackt Bündel von Schicksalen, straßenweit. Herzklopfen von Millionen Menschen, unaufhörliches Herzklopfen, wie von einem millionenfältigen Motor, langsam, langsam die Straße des Lebens entlang, mit jedem Klopfen einen geringen Millimeter näher dem Tode zu.

On je ?ovek, on želi svoju propast.

Happiness lies all around us. We only have to pick it up.

Sonderbar, dachte Ravic, daß Blutsauger so gern moralisch werden. Dieser alte Gauner mit der Rosette der Ehrenlegion im Knopfloch wirft mir vor, daß ich ihn ausnütze, anstatt sich zu schämen. Und er glaubt es sogar noch.

Jednostavna duša, još nezaražena ni skepsom ni prekomernom inteligencijom. Parsifol je bio glup. Da je bio mudar, nikad ne bi osvojio sveti Gral. Samo glupak pobe?uje u životu; drugi vidi suviše prepreka i postaje kolebljiv pre no što i po?ne... U teškim prilikama bezazlenost je najdragocenije blago, ?udotvorni plašt koji skriva opasnost u koju pametnjakovi? ule?e kao oma?ijan...

SevmÉ™yÉ™n adam bu dünyaya mÉ™zuniyyÉ™tÉ™ gÉ™lmiÅŸ ölüdür. Onun da quruca ad? , doÄŸulduÄŸu ay?, ili var, vÉ™ssalam.

Nobody can deceive a dying farmer!

Pred platnima impresionista ?ovek nije mogao verovati da jedna životinjska vrsta koja je tako nešto stvorila može istovremeno spremati ubila?ki rat

They want us (the german soldiers) to be heroes, but they don't want to know anything about the lice.

Der junge Tag hauchte von weit her seinen reinen Atem über die dreckigen Höfe und die rauchigen Dächer in das Fenster, und es war immer noch Wald und Leben darin.

With blinded eyes I stared at the sky, this grey, endless sky of a crazy god, who had made life and death for his amusement. In

Ko ?e kazniti Boga zato što ?ini te patimo? Ovde kod ljudi, kad se to u?ini, do?e se u tamnicu ili bude obešen. Ko ?e obesiti Boga?

Q?sqancl?q deyilÉ™n ÅŸey iki sevÉ™ndÉ™n birinin qabaqca ölÉ™cÉ™yini bilÉ™n gündÉ™n baÅŸlam?rd?m? ?

Kantorek would say that we stood on the threshold of life. And so it would seem. We had as yet taken no root. The war swept us away. For the others, the older men, it is but an interruption. They are able to think beyond it. We, however, have been gripped by it and do not know what the end may be. We know only that in some strange and melancholy way we have become a wasteland.

And we stand still again, and suddenly we feel that everything out there in front of us, that absolute hell, that ragged patch of shell-holes, is still there inside us.

Gyvenkim ši?ia taikiai ir dorai, ano pasaulio juk n?ra tikrai.

G?lm?kd? yax?? el?dim? – Joan soru?du. – Bilmir?m, Joan. – Bilirs?n... Bilm?lis?n!

TÉ™kcÉ™ onu görürdü vÉ™ bilirdi ki, onu belÉ™ sirli-soraql? elÉ™yÉ™n özünün vurÄŸun könlüdür. Bilirdi ki, bundan da q???ng,bundan da a??ll?, bundan da saf üzlÉ™r var. Ancaq onu da bilirdi ki, baÅŸqa üz yox,mÉ™hz bu üz onun qÉ™lbinÉ™ hakim kÉ™silib. Bu hakimliyi dÉ™ ona özü vermiÅŸdi!

Die Stadt war weit, fern, nur noch ein sanftes Summen am Horizont, die Kette der Stunden war losgehakt, und die Zeit war so lautlos, als stände sie still.

We often made fun of them and played jokes on them, but in our hearts we trusted them. The idea of authority, which they represented, was associated in our minds with a greater insight and a more humane wisdom. But the first death we saw shattered this belief. We had to recognize that our generation was more to be trusted than theirs. They surpassed us only in phrases and in cleverness.

So long as I do not know his name perhaps I may still forget him, time will obliterate it, this picture. But his name, it is a nail that will be hammered into me and never come out again. It has the power to recall this forever, it will always come back and stand before me.

On devient mélancolique lorsqu'on pense à la vie... cynique lorsqu'on voit ce qu'en font la plupart des gens.