Quotes About Humanity

Un niño y una niña se entrelazaban en Münchenstrasse. Se retorcían, incómodos, en el asfalto. Juntos, vieron desaparecer a los humanos. Los vieron disolverse en el aire húmedo como si fueran grageas en movimiento.

A Jew had once saved his life and he couldn't forget that. He couldn't join a party that antagonized people in such a way... Like many of the Jews believed, he didn't think the hatred could last...

So many humans. So many colors. They keep triggering inside me. They harass my memory. I see them tall in their heaps, all mounted on top of each other. There is air like plastic, a horizon like setting glue. There are skies manufactured by people, punctured and leaking, and there are soft, coal-colored clouds, beating like black hearts. And then. There is death.

That's the sort of thing I'll never know, or comprehend __ what humans are capable of.

We all have our duties here. We all suffer. We all endure our setbacks for the greater good of mankind.

Junto a los escombros de Colonia, un grupo de niños recogía contenedores de combustible vacíos arrojados por sus enemigos. Como siempre, yo recogía humanos. Estaba cansada. Y apenas habíamos llegado a la mitad del año.

Carey liked the fact that Michelangelo had had his nose broken as a teenager, for being too much of a smart mouth; a reminder that he was human. A badge of imperfection.

A human doesn't have a heart like mine. The human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and i have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. The consequence of this is that i'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and i wonder how the same thing can be both. Still, they have one thing i envy. Humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Papa's hands tightened on the splintery wood. I'm an idiot. No, Papa. You're just a man.

God, there were so many of them. So many sets of dying eyes and scuffing feet.

Sí, la recuerdo menudo y conservo su historia en uno de mis múltiples bolsillos para contarla una y otra vez. Es una más de la pequeña legión que llevo conmigo, cada una de ellas extraordinarias a su modo. Todas son un intento, un extraordinario intento de demostrarme que vosotros, y la existencia humana, valéis la pena.

I am haunted by humans

In years to come, he would be a giver of bread, not a stealer—proof again of the contradictory human being. So much good, so much evil. Just add water.

Några år senare skulle han bli en som gav bort bröd, inte stal det - ytterligare bevis på hur motsägelsefull människan är. En nypa godhet. En nypa ondska. Tillsätt vatten och rör om.

First the colors. Then the humans. That's usually how I see things. Or at least, how I try.

I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words so damning and brilliant.

It kind of depressed me to think a human could be so lonely that she would comfort herself with the company of appliances that whistle, and sit alone to eat.

Así y todo, ella llora en el porche y yo desearía acercarme y abrazarla. Desearía rescatarla y mecerla entre mis brazos. «¿Cómo puede la gente vivir así?» «¿Cómo consiguen sobrevivir?» Tal vez por eso estoy aquí. Porque ya no pueden.

No, Sophie, no soy un santo. Solo otro estúpido ser humano.

Highlight: "Arschloch!" Papa yelped. "Liesel, give me some of that snow. A whole bucket!" For a few minutes, they all forgot. There was no more yelling or calling out, but they could not contain the small snatches of laughter. They were only humans, playing in the snow, in a house.

I'm always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugly and their beauty, and I wonder how the same thing can be both.

You might argue that I make the rounds no matter what year it is, but sometimes the human race likes to crank things up a little. They increase the production of bodies and their escaping souls.

Se puede robar la felicidad? ¿O es sólo otro infernal truco humano?

You bastards, she said. You lovely bastards.