Quotes About Time

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.

Shortly after the war Valentin had come into a little money, and had been drinking it ever since. He considered it his duty to celebrate his good luck in having come out alive. It was nothing to him that that was now several years ago. One could never celebrate it enough, he used to explain. He was one of those with an uncanny memory of the war. The rest of us had forgotten many things; but he remembered every day and every hour.

Korraga valdab mind aja nimetu raskemeelsus - see voolab ja voolab ning muutub, ja kui sa naased, ei leia sa enam midagi taas. Hüvasti jätta on raske - kuid naasta on vahel veelgi raskem.

Pasaule cilv?kam nekad neš?iet tik skaista k? mirkl?, kad vi?š tiek ieslodz?ts. Pirms vi?am t? j?atst?j. Kaut vienm?r to var?tu izjust t?du! Varb?t mums par maz laika tam. Par maz miera.

Mi alzo: sono contento. Vengano i mesi e gli anni, non mi prenderanno più nulla. Sono tanto solo, tanto privo di speranza che posso guardare dinanzi a me senza timore. La vita, che mi ha portato attraverso questi anni, è ancora nelle mie mani e nei miei occhi. Se io abbia saputo dominarla, non so. Ma finché dura, essa si cercherà la sua strada, vi consenta o non vi consenta quell'essere, che nel mio interno dice io

Take twenty years of my life, comrade, and stand up - take more, for I do not know what I can even attempt to do with it now

Once we had such desires - but they return not. They are past, they belong to another world that is gone from us.

And even if these scenes of our youth were given back to use we would hardly know what to do. The tender, secret influence that passed from them into us could not rise again. We might be amongst them and move in them; we might remember and love them and be stirred by the sight of them. But it would be like gazing at the photograph of a dead comrade; those are his features, it is his face, and the days we spent together take on a mournful life in the memory; but the man himself it is not

Die Stadt, leise schwimmend im späten Mondlicht und dem Sausen der Automobilmotoren. Häuserreihen, lang, endlos sich dehnend, Fensterreihen, und hinter sie gepackt Bündel von Schicksalen, straßenweit. Herzklopfen von Millionen Menschen, unaufhörliches Herzklopfen, wie von einem millionenfältigen Motor, langsam, langsam die Straße des Lebens entlang, mit jedem Klopfen einen geringen Millimeter näher dem Tode zu.

Q?sqancl?q deyilÉ™n ÅŸey iki sevÉ™ndÉ™n birinin qabaqca ölÉ™cÉ™yini bilÉ™n gündÉ™n baÅŸlam?rd?m? ?

Die Stadt war weit, fern, nur noch ein sanftes Summen am Horizont, die Kette der Stunden war losgehakt, und die Zeit war so lautlos, als stände sie still.

So long as I do not know his name perhaps I may still forget him, time will obliterate it, this picture. But his name, it is a nail that will be hammered into me and never come out again. It has the power to recall this forever, it will always come back and stand before me.

It's a primary law of this world that the old rule the young, that one must serve mine's time. It is no question of ability. Else what would become of the old dodderers who cling to power?

Die Stille ist die Ursache dafür, daß die Bilder des Früher nicht so sehr Wünsche erwecken als Trauer – eine ungeheure, fassungslose Schwermut. Sie waren – aber sie kehren nicht wieder. Sie sind vorbei, sie sind eine andere Welt, die für uns vorüber ist.

das verlorene Bereitsein meiner Jugend

Iron Youth. Youth! We are none of us more than twenty years old. But young? Youth? That is long ago. We are old folk.

In the afternoon, about three, he is dead. I

But every gasp lays my heart bare. This dying man has time with him, he has an invisible dagger with which he stabs me: Time and my thoughts.

Nikad ne treba da me ?ekaš. Strašno je ?ekati. - Ti, Robi, baš ništa ne razumeš. Strašno je samo kad nema šta da se ?eka.

K?das ir j?su domas par dz?vi? [Ludvigs jaut? z?rciniekam Vilkem] - No r?ta cit?das nek? vakar?, ziem? cit?das nek? vasar?, pirms ?šanas cit?das nek? p?c tam un jaun?b? droši vien cit?das nek? vecum?.

And even if these scenes of our youth were given back to us, we would hardly know what to do. The tender, secret influence that passed from them into us could not rise again. We might be amongst them and move in them and be stirred by the sight of them. But it would be like gazing at the photograph of a dead comrade; those are his features, it is his face, and the days spent together take on a mournful life in the memory; but the man himself it is not.

And even if these scenes of our youth were given back to us we would hardly know what to do. The tender, secret influence that passed from them into us could not rise again. We might be amongst them and move in them; we might remember and love them and be stirred by the sight of them. But it would be like gazing at the photograph of a dead comrade; those are his features, it is his face, and the days we spent together take on a mournful life in the memory; but the man himself it is not.

M?s ar katru dienu vair?k mirstam, bet ar? ar katru dienu ilg?k dz?vojam [..] nekas netiek izn?cin?ts, un, kas neko negrib patur?t, tam pieder viss.

I implore them with my eyes: Speak to me—take me up—take me, Life of my Youth—you who are care-free, beautiful—receive me again— I wait, I wait. Images float through my mind, but they do not grip me, they are mere shadows and memories. Nothing—nothing—