Quotes About Experience

I stand there and wonder whether, when I am twenty, I shall have experienced the bewildering emotions of love.

To-day we would pass through the scenes of our youth like travellers. We are burnt up by hard facts; like tradesmen we understand distinctions, and like butchers, necessities. We are no longer untroubled—we are indifferent. We might exist there; but should we really live there? We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial—I believe we are lost.

Our damnable memory is a sieve. It wants to survive. And survival is only possible through forgetfulness.

One is never too young. Only always too old.

There's something good about unpleasant memories: they make you think you're happy when a moment before you were convinced of the contrary.

I am thinking of those strange moments when unexpectedly a kind of second sight like a deceptive memory seems suddenly to give us glimpses of many earlier lives.

Sre?a, kad je doživljujemo, nikad nije potpuna. Tek u sje?anju postaje potpuna...

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 agree that it's the same for everyone; not only for us here, but everywhere, for everyone who is of our age; to some more, and to others less. It is the common fate of our generation.

Then we change our possy and lie down again to play cards. We know how to do that: to play cards, to swear, and to fight. Not much for twenty years;--and yet too much for twenty years.

Jugend! Wir sind alle nicht mehr als zwanzig Jahre. Aber jung? Jugend? Das ist lange her. Wir sind alte Leute.

Teadmine ei tee kunagi valu. Valu teeb vaid "enne" ja "pärast".

Be meil?s žmogus - tik atostogaujantis lavonas.

Nie ka?dy ma takie ?ycie, ?eby nadawaÅ'o siÄ™ na dom dla niego, który bÄ™dzie mógÅ' dekorowa? coraz bogatszymi meblami wspomnieÅ". Niektórzy mieszkajÄ… w hotelach, w niejednym hotelu. Lata zatrzaskujÄ… siÄ™ za nimi jak drzwi hoteli - i jedyne, co im pozostaje, to odrobina odwagi, ale nikt ich nie ?aÅ'uje.

My feet begin to move forward in my boots, I go quicker, I run. Soldiers pass by me, I hear their voices without understanding. The earth is streaming with forces which pour into me through the soles of my feet. The night crackles electrically, the front thunders like a concert of drums. My limbs move supplely, I feel my joints strong, I breathe the air deeply. The night lives, I live. I feel a hunger, greater than comes from the belly alone.

Stebuklas, kai j? patiri, niekuomet n?ra pilnas, tik atmintis padaro j? tokiu.

You see," said Otto. "That's the gift of age. Tears and laughter—quick changes. No resentments. Something one might well learn," he observed meditatively.

There's something good about unpleasant memories: they make you think you are happy when a moment before you were convinced of the contrary. Happiness is a question of degree. When you know that, you are seldom completely unhappy.

No one will understand us – because in front of us there is a generation of men who did, it is true, share the years out here with us, but who already had a bed and a job and who are going back to their old positions, where they will forget all about the war – and behind us, a new generation is growing up, one like we used to be, and that generation will be strangers to us and will push us aside.

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

?ovek se hvata samo u svojim vlastitim snovima - a nikad u tu?im. ?ovek se hvata ili gubi.

But you will understand me anyways, even without words. Everything is so new to me that I cannot express it; I didn't know that my breathe could love, that my nails could love, that even my death could love. And I don't care how much it will last, or whether I can hold it or not, or whether I will be able to express it properly.

Between five and ten recruits fall to every old hand.

In Wirklichkeit vergessen wir nichts. Solange wir hier im Felde sein müssen, sinken die Fronttage, wenn sie vorbei sind, wie Steine in uns hinunter, weil sie zu schwer sind, um sofort darüber nachdenken zu können.