Quotes About Exile

and was finally sent into tax exile, which is the usual fate reserved for those who are determined to make fools of themselves in public.

Exiles feed on hope.

Where are you from, Jews?" asked the rabbi as people used to ask in the old days. An ancient grief glazed his eyes.

There was no letter in the Jewish stars though. No matter where we had come from, we had no country. We were only Jews.

Must all of them and their families be physically abolished? Of course not? They must be 'liquidated' or melted in the hot fire of exile and labor into the proletarian masses.

The world knows already, they just don't have a picture up there or I'll spend the rest of my life in exile. It's hard to do that when you don't have any money.

The Jewish story is the story of wandering. It is the story of extraordinary heterogeneous complication.

Ukraine told me I couldn't return. They put me on a list of terrorists and war criminals.

Of all the writers I have read, Vladimir Nabokov has made the biggest impression on me because he, despite living through the 1917 February Revolution, forced exile amidst the anti-Semitism in Nazi Germany, the two World Wars and quite a lot of controversy, was an author who never gave up.

Kiggs. "You were just a squire when they were banished; technically, you weren't banished at all." Maurizio

Many whites who were suspected of loyalties to the British were hounded, tarred and feathered, sent into exile—but they were not hanged on the mere suspicion of what they might do in the future. Something else was going on here, something with a distinctly racial twist. Jeremiah personified the worst fears of white patriots: what if black men, acting as their own agents, sided against them?

I'm living in California but I have a place that is mine in Chile and I belong there. I am no longer an exile.

Well, I write in exile because I cannot return to my country, so I have no choice but to see myself as an exiled writer.

Are revolutions worthy of so much honour? The men who conceive them are not those who carry them out. Those who begin them rarely live to see their end, except in exile or in prison. Can they really be the symbol of a humanity which is the master of its own destiny if no man recognises his handiwork in the achievement which results from the savage free-for-all struggle?

I felt afraid that the curtain between worlds was not sufficient. Air blew things in and away and water exiled its creatures onto dry land and rushed away from them. It seemed to be the nature of water and air, to be random, heartless.

If Cuba is Hell, Miami is Purgatory.

La locura de mi alma no puede reclinarse, vive en lo inquieto, en lo desordenado, en el desequilibrio de las cosas dinámicas, en el silencio del libre pensador, que vive solo, en callado destierro. The madness of my soul cannot repose, it lives in the restlessness in the disorder in the imbalance of things dynamic, in the silence of the free thinker, who lives alone, in quiet exile. (From Mi Alma / My Soul)

When we killed – or exiled – God, we also killed ourselves. Did we notice that sufficiently at the time? No God, no afterlife, no us. We were right to kill Him, of course, this long-standing imaginary friend of ours. And we weren't going to get an afterlife anyway. But we sawed off the branch we were sitting on. And the view from there, from that height – even if it was only the illusion of a view – wasn't so bad.

When we killed - or exiled - God we also killed ourselves. Did we notice sufficiently at the time? No God, no afterlife, no us. We were right to kill Him, of course, this long-standing imaginary friend of ours. And we weren't going to get an afterlife anyway. But we sawed off the branch we were sitting on. And the view from there, from that height - even if it was only the illusion of a view - wasn't so bad.

Many of us had lost everything and left saying nothing at all. All of us left wearing white numbered identification tags tied to our collars and lapels.

He had probably been thrown out of a wine shop, and it hadn't quite dawned on him yet.

The Knights' Code," which he had learned by heart from Scouting for Boys, a book he frequently turned to in times of uncertainty, even now in his self-exile from the movement, demanded that "Chivalry requireth that youth should be trained to perform the most laborious and humble offices with cheerfulness and grace." He supposed entertaining Izzie was one of those occasions. It was certainly laborious.

Only solitary men know the full joys of frienship. Others have their family; but to a solitary and an exile, his friends are everything.

A self-respecting man is a man without a country. A fatherland is birdlime.