Quotes from Erich Maria Remarque

Non può essere del tutto scomparsa, quella tenerezza che ci turbava il sangue, quell'incertezza, quell'inquietudine di ciò che doveva giungere, i mille volti dell'avvenire, la melodia dei sogni e dei libri, il fruscio lontano, il presentimento della donna: non può essere scomparso tutto questo sotto il fuoco tambureggiante, nella disperazione, nei bordelli di truppa.

Safe in his cage,' she repeated. 'Who wants to be safe in a cage?

I take out my cigarettes, break each one in half, and give them to the Russians. ... Now red points glow in every face. They comfort me. It looks as though they are little windows in dark village cottages, saying that behind them are rooms full of peace.

We have never been a very demonstrative family – poor people who have to work hard and cope with problems very rarely are.

Nekad dz?v? nepietiek, un t? tas ir katram. Laikam gan vienm?r ir par maz, un t? ir pasaules nelaime.

What has Kantorek written to you?" Müller asks him. He laughs. "We are the Iron Youth." We all three smile bitterly, Kropp rails: he is glad that he can speak. Yes, that's the way they think, these hundred thousand Kantoreks! Iron Youth! Youth! We are none of us more than twenty years old. But young? Youth? That is long ago. We are old folk.

Ura este un acid care corodeaz? sufletul, indiferent dac? tu eÈ™ti cel ce ur??te sau cel urât.

While they continued to write and talk, we saw the wounded and dying. While they taught that duty to one's country is the greatest thing, we already knew that death-throes are stronger.

Via?a era vaporul din port, care nu mergea spre infinit...

government which solves its unemployment problem by building an armament industry has only two possibilities: war or a domestic catastrophe. Therefore war.

Wunderbar war das beim Trinken - es brachte einen rasch zusammen-, aber zwischenn Abend und Morgen schaffte es auch wieder Zwischenräume, als wären es Jahre.

bail?s un hist?rij? p?lis sekoja jebkuram sauklim, vienalga, no kuras puses tas n?ktu, ja vien p?lim pašam nav j?dom? un j?uz?emas atbild?ba, aizst?vot kaut ko, kas vi?u bied?, bet no k? vi?š nevar izvair?ties.

He is right. We are not youth any longer. We don't want to take the world by storm. We are fleeing. We fly from ourselves. From our life. We were eighteen and had begun to love life and the world; and we had to shoot it to pieces. The first bomb, the first explosion, burst in our hearts. We are cut off from activity, from striving, from progress. We believe in such things no more, we believe in the war.

And yes, that's it, that is what they think, those hundred thousand Kantoreks. Young men of iron. Young? None of us is more than twenty. But young? Young men? That was a long time ago. We are old now.

I think it is more of a kind of fever, says Albert. No one in particular wants it, and then all at once there it is. We didn't want the war, the others would say the same thing--and yet half the world is in it all the same.

It cannot be that it has gone, the yearning that made our blood unquiet, the unknown, the perplexing, the incoming things, the thousand faces of the future, the melodies from dreams and from books, the whispers and divination of women; it cannot be that this has vanished in bombardment, in despair, in brothels.

Es neuzdr?kst?jos vi?u nosk?pst?t. Vi?a st?v?ja tuvu jo tuvu, ta?u tik sastingusi, ka, lik?s, var?tu sal?zt, ja vi?ai pieskartos.

Te jeseni 1939. život je ?oveku bio nanovo poklonjen - re?e Švarc. - ?ak su i kestenovi te jeseni ponovo procvetali, po drugi put, u Parizu - se?ate li se?

the wrong people do the fighting

We forget nothing really . . . the front-line days . . . are too grievous for us to be able to reflect on them at once. If we did, we should have been destroyed long ago . . . - terror . . . kills, if a man thinks about it.

Dišite duboko, gledajte u bregove, zahvalite bogu što živite, i mislite na to da su i bolji od vas morali da umru.

Anyway, there were thousands of Kantoreks, all of them convinced that they were acting for the best, in a way that was the most comfortable for themselves. But as far as we are concerned, that is the very root of their moral bankruptcy.

It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning.

Šai mirkl? es aptv?ru, no k? baid?jos visvair?k: karš var?ja m?s izš?irt t?, ka m?s nekad vairs neatrastu viens otru p?c tam, kad tas b?tu iztrakojies, jo pat visliel?kaj? p?rdroš?b? nedr?kst?tu cer?t tik daudz personisk?s laimes p?c zemestr?ces, kas visu sagrautu.