Quotes from Erich Maria Remarque

Moartea este un camelen am?gitor.Apare tot mereu în alt? înf??iÈ™are.Sau, mai bine zis noi suntem cameleonii;c?ci mereu ne schimb?m atitudinea.Ba vedem în moarte un prieten, ba un inamic; doar Dumnezeu È™i moartea nu ne pot dezam?gi; iar aceasta formeaz? o unitate.Adic?:viaÈ›a!

C'est vraiment honteux d'aller et venir sur la terre et de ne presque rien savoir d'elle... Pas même quelques noms.

Je voulais dire quelque chose, mais je n'y parvins pas. C'est difficile de trouver des mots lorsqu'on a quelque chose à dire.

Universul este o p?dure uria??, în care raÈ›iunea noastr? nu reprezint? decât un centimetru, în lungime, l??ime È™i în?lÈ›ime.

Stvarnost budi zelje, ali nikad ne moze da ih zadovolji. Ljubav pocinje u covjeku, ali se nikad ne svrsava u njemu. Cak i kad je sve tu: i covjek, i ljubav i sreca i zivot, jos uvijek je sve to, po nekom strasnom udesu, suvise malo, i sto vece izgleda, sve manje biva.

Omul fericit este mai în m?sur? s? simt? compasiune pentru alÈ›ii.Cel fericit simte cu mai mult? intensitate nefericirea decât cel fericit.Chiar dac? ajunge uÈ™or la contrarul ei.?i mulÈ›i dintre cei care fac haz de nefericirea lor se complac, în fond, în ea.

Vai cilv?ks dz?vo no iekšas uz ?ru vai no ?rpuses uz iekšu?

Omul este un actor des?vârÈ™it È™i are o pasiune pentru rolurile lacrimogene.

Nu toÈ›i oamenii au curajul s? fie fericiÈ›i.Dac? d? fericirea peste ei, o repudiaz?.Fiindc? vor s? fie nefericiÈ›i, chiar dac? în fond nu sunt; pentru c? ei nefericirea reprezint? adev?rata fericire.

Kat and I, two soldiers in shabby battledress, roasting a goose in the middle of the night. We don't talk much, but we have a greater and more gentle consideration for each other than I should think even lovers do. We are two human beings, two tiny sparks of life; outside there is just the night, and all around us, death.

Tinere?ea trebuie s?-?i tr?iasc? prim?vara vie?ii.

A man cannot realize that above such shattered bodies there are still human faces in which life goes its daily round. And this is only one hospital, one single station; there are hundreds of thousands in Germany, hundreds of thousands in France, hundreds of thousands in Russia. How senseless is everything that can ever be written, done, or thought, when such things are possible.

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. There is my mother, there is my sister, there my case of butterflies, and there the mahogany piano - but I am not myself there. There is a distance, a veil between us.

I have awaited a storm that should deliver me, pluck me away and now it has come softly, even without my knowledge. But it is here. While I was despairing, thinking everything lost, it was already quietly growing. I had thought that division was always an end. Now I know that growth also is division. And growth means relinquishing. And growth has no end.

How pointless all human thoughts, words and deeds must be, if things like this are possible! Everything must have been fraudulent and pointless if thousands of years of civilization weren't even able to prevent this river of blood, couldn't stop these torture chambers existing in their hundreds of thousands

Ce n'est qu'en se retrouvant toujours seul qu'on connaît le bonheur d'être ensemble.

Vis gal?jai tik?tis, kad tav?s nepasteb?s arba palaikys mirusiu - papras?iausias gamtos d?snis, žinomas kiekvienam vabalui.

Incidentally, it's funny how often the miseries of this world are caused by short people - they are so much more quick-tempered and difficult to get on with than tall ones. I have always tried to avoid landing up in companies with commanders who are short - usually they are complete bastards.

I know nothing about them except that they are prisoners-of-war, and that is precisely what shakes me. Their lives are anonymous and blameless; if I knew more about them, what they are called, how they live, what their hopes and fears are, then my feelings might have a focus and could turn into sympathy. But at the moment all I sense in them is the pain of the dumb animal, the fearful melancholy of life and the pitilessness of men. - Paul Buemer

Cik labi, ja cilv?kam ir cigaretes. Sm??is dažk?rt ir pat lab?ks nek? draugi. Cigaretes nemulsina. T?s ir m?mas un labas.

Šodien katrs dom? par sevi. P?r?k daudz pasaul? nelaimes.

I realize he does not know that a man cannot talk of such things; I would do it willingly, but it is too dangerous for me to put these things into words. I am afraid they might then become gigantic and I be no longer able to master them. What would become of us if everything that happens out there were quite clear to us?

There were thousands of Kantoreks, all of whom were convinced that they were acting for the best -- in a way that cost them nothing. And that is why they let us down so badly.

Through the years our business has been killing;-it was our first calling in life. Our knowledge of lif eis limited to death.