Quotes About Suffering

Kes suudab elada, ilma et unustaks? Aga kes suudab küllalt unustada? Mälestuste Å¡lakk, mis südant rebestab. Alles siis, kui sul enam midagi ei ole, mille nimel elada, oled vaba.

I see their dark forms, their beards move in the wind. I know nothing of them except that they are prisoners; and that is exactly what troubles me. Their life is obscure and guiltless;--if I could know more of them, what their names are, how they live, what they are waiting for, what are their burdens, then my emotion would have an object and might become sympathy. But as it is I perceive behind them only the suffering of the creature, the awful melancholy of life and the pitilessness of men.

I cannot bear to look at his hands, they are like wax. Under the nails is the dirt of the trenches, it shows through blue-black like poison.

We didn't want the war, the others say the same thing—and yet half the world is in it all the same." "But there are more lies told by the other side than by us," say I; "just think of those pamphlets the prisoners have on them, where it says that we eat Belgian children. The fellows who write those lies ought to go out and hang themselves. They are real culprits.

Shells, gas clouds, and flotillas of tanks - shattering, corroding, death. Dysentery, influenza, typhus - scalding, choking, death.

Erich Maria Remarque

Erst das Lazarett zeigt, was der Krieg ist.

When a man has seen so many dead he cannot understand any longer why there should be so much anguish over a single individual.

Things become quieter, but the cries do not cease. "What's up, Albert?" I ask. "A couple of columns over there got it in the neck." The cries continued. It is not men, they could not cry so terribly. "Wounded horses," says Kat. It's unendurable. It is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning.

Obuze, mitraliere, aburi de gaze, flotile de tancuri - strivire, devorare, moarte.

Our life alternates between billets and the front. We have almost grown accustomed to it; war is the cause of death like cancer and tuberculosis, like influenza and dysentery. The deaths are merely more frequent, more varied and terrible.

I think it's more a kind of fever,' says Albert. 'Nobody really wants it, but all of a sudden, there it is. We didn't want the war, they say the same thing on the other side – and in spite of that, half the world is at it hammer and tongs.

Well, she can go to hell with her whispering and her words. You believe in a miracle, but really it just comes down to loaves of bread.

Albert expresses it: The war has ruined us for everything.

Como é inútil tudo quanto já foi escrito, feito e pensado, quando não se conseguem evitar estas coisas! Devem ser mentiras e insignificâncias, quando a cultura de milhares de anos não conseguiu impedir que se derramassem esses rios de sangue e que existam aos milhares estas prisões, onde se sofrem tantas dores.

They were living corpses and died like flies in frost. The Small camp was full of them. They were broken and lost and nothing could save them—not even freedom.

Biz art?k o eski tasas?zlar deÄŸiliz; biz ÅŸimdi müthiÅŸ vurdumduymaz olduk. ÖlmeyeceÄŸiz ama yaÅŸayacak m?y?z? Kimsesiz çocuklar gibi b?rak?lm??, yaÅŸl? insanlar gibi görmüÅŸ geçirmiÅŸiz; kabay?z, üzgünüz, sat?htay?z... galiba mahvolmuÅŸuz.

While they went on writing and making speeches, we saw field hospitals and men dying: while they preached the service of the state as the greatest thing, we already knew that the fear of death is even greater.

There behind me on the stretchers my comrades are now lying and still they call. It is peace, yet they must die. But I, I am trembling with joy and am not ashamed. —And that is odd. Because none can ever wholly feel what another suffers—is that the reason why wars perpetually recur? 2

Our life alternates between billets and the front. We have almost grown accustomed to it; war is the cause of death like cancer and tuberculosis, like influenza and dysentery. The deaths are merely

It brings a lump into the throat to see how they go over, and run and fall. A man would like to spank them, they are so stupid, and to take them by the arm and lead them away from here where they have no business to be. They wear grey coats and trousers and boots, but for most of them the uniform is far too big, it hangs on their limbs, their shoulders are too narrow, their bodies too slight; no uniform was ever made to these childish measurements.

Many slept crouching and the lucky one was he whose bedfellows died in the evening. They were then carried away, and for one night he could stretch out until new arrivals came.

The hospitals are all full to overflowing, no one is properly looked after there, and once a man lies down on it, he is only so much nearer to being dead. Men die all around one. It gets on a fellow's nerves, alone there among it all, and before he knows where he is, he has made another himself.

Das sage ich euch, es ist die allergrößte Gemeinheit, daß Tiere im Krieg sind.