Erich Maria Remarque

“But probably that's the way of the world - when we have finally learned something we're too old to apply it - and so it goes, wave after wave, generation after generation. No one learns anything at all from anyone else.”

“To no man does the earth mean so much as to the soldier. When he presses himself down upon her long and powerfully, when he buries his face and his limbs deep in her from the fear of death by shell-fire, then she is his only friend, his brother, his mother; he stifles his terror and his cries in her silence and her security; she shelters him and releases him for ten seconds to live, to run, ten seconds of life; receives him again and again and often forever.”

“The coffin, it shall protect me, though Death himself lies in it”

“Comrade, I did not want to kill you. . . . But you were only an idea to me before, an abstraction that lived in my mind and called forth its appropriate response. . . . I thought of your hand-grenades, of your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony—Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?”

“At school nobody ever taught us how to light a cigarette in a storm of rain, nor how a fire could be made with wet wood-nor that it is best to stick a bayonet in the belly because there it doesn't get jammed, as it does in the ribs.”

“Bombardment, barrage, curtain-fire, mines, gas, tanks, machine-guns, hand-grenades - words, words, but they hold the horror of the world.”

“I love him, his shoulders, his angular, stooping figure – and at the same time I see behind him woods and stars, and a clear voice utters words that bring me peace, to me, a soldier in big boots, belt, and a knapsack, taking the road that lies before him under the high heaven, quickly forgetting and seldom sorrowful, for ever pressing on under the wide night sky.”

“A line, a short line, stumbles off into the morning. Thirty two men.”

“Through the years our business has been killing;-it was our first calling in life. Our knowledge of lif eis limited to death.”

“Bây giờ, lần đầu tiên, mình nhận ra cậu cũng là một con người như mình. Mình đã nghĩ đến những quả lựu đạn của cậu, đến cái lưỡi lê và các thứ vũ khí của cậu; nhưng bây giờ, mình nhìn thấy vợ cậu, cũng như nhìn thấy mặt cậu và những gì giống nhau giữa hai chúng mình. Bạn ơi, hãy tha thứ cho mình. Bao giờ chúng ta cũng nhìn ra sự việc một cách quá muộn. Tại sao người ta không nói cho bọn mình rằng chính các cậu, các cậu cũng chỉ là những con chó khốn khổ như bọn mình, rằng các bà mẹ của các cậu cũng đau khổ như mẹ chúng mình, rằng chúng ta đều sợ chết như nhau, đều chết một cách giống nhau, chịu những nỗi đau đớn như nhau? Bạn ơi, hãy tha thứ cho mình; làm sao cậu lại có thể là kẻ thù của mình?”

“Educationalists who think they can understand the young are enthusiasts. Youth does not want to be understood; it wants only to be let alone. It preserves itself immune against the insidious bacillus of being understood. The grown-up who would approach it too importunately is as ridiculous in its eyes as if he had put on children's clothes. We may feel with our youth, but youth does not feel with us. That is its salvation.”

“Unspoiled by education, frank and unsuspecting as young an8imals, they came up to school from their meadows, their games, and their dreams. The simple law of life was alone valid for them; the most vital, the most forceful among them was leader; the rest followed him. But little by little, with the weekly portions of tuition, another, artificial set of values was foisted upon them: he who knew his lesson best was termed excellent and ranked foremost, and the rest must emulate him. Little wonder, indeed, if the more vital of them resist it! But they have to knuckle under, for the ideal of the school is the good scholar.--But what an ideal! What ever came of the good scholars in the world?--In the hothouse of the school they do enjoy a short semblance of life, but only the more surely to sink back afterward into mediocrity and insignificance. The world has been bettered only by the bad scholars.”

“Kat and Kropp get in an argument over the war as they rest from an hour’s worth of drill (occasioned by Tjaden’s not saluting a major properly). Kat believes the war would be over if leaders gave all the participants “the same grub and the same pay,” as he says in a rhyme. Kropp believes the leaders of each country should fight each other in an arena to settle the war; the “wrong” people currently do the fighting.”

“Because we were duped I tell you, duped as even yet we hardly realize; because we were misused, hideously misused. They told us it was for the Fatherland, and meant the schemes of annexation of a greedy industry.--They told us it was for Honor, and meant the quarrels and the will to power of a handful of ambitious diplomats and princes.--They told us it was for the Nation, and meant the need for activity on the part of out-of-work generals!...Can't you see? They stuffed out the word Patriotism with all the twaddle of their fine phrases, with their desire for glory, their will to power, their false romanticism, their stupidity, their greed of business, and then paraded it before us as a shining ideal! And we thought they were sounding a bugle summoning us to a new, a more strenuous, a larger life. Can't you see, man? But we were making war against ourselves without even knowing it!...There is only one fight, the fight against the lie, the half-truth, compromise, against the old order. But we let ourselves be taken in by their phrases; and instead of fighting against them, we fought for them. We thought it was for the Future. It was against the Future. Our future is dead; for the youth is dead that carried it. We are merely the survivors, the ruins. But the other is alive still--the fat, the full, the well content, that lives on, fatter and fuller, more contented than ever! And why? Because the dissatisfied, the eager, the storm troops have died for it.”

“The things here are stronger--the things that differentiate us from one another are too powerful. The common interest is no longer decisive. It has broken up already and given place to the interest of the individual. Now and then something still will shine through from that other time when we all wore the same rig, but already it is dwindled and dim. These others here are still our comrades and yet our comrades no longer--that is what is so sad. All else went west in the war, but comradeship we did believe in; now only to find that what death could not do, life is achieving; it is driving us asunder.”

“I have been running all about; I have knocked again at all the doors of my youth and desired to enter in there; I thought, surely it must admit me again, for I am still young and have wished so much to forget; but it fled always before me like a will-o'-the-wisp; it fell away without a sound; it crumbled like tinder at my lightest touch. And I could not understand.--Surely here at least something of it must remain? I attempted it again and again, and as a result made myself merely ridiculous and wretched. But now I know. I know now that a still, silent war has ravaged this country of my memories also; I know now it would be useless for me to look farther. Time lies between like a great gulf; I cannot get back. There is nothing for it; I must go forward, march onward, anywhere; it matters nothing, for I have no goal”

“And even if these scenes from 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.”

“I dislike his talk; it goes against my grain to hear him speak so contemptuously of cobblers. They made as good soldiers as the finer folk, anyway. Adolf Bethke was a cobbler, for that matter,--and he knew a sight more about war than a good many majors. It was the man that counted with us, not his occupation.”

“Sweet dreams though the guns are booming.”

“Odejít není vždy tak snadné, zvlášť když člověk s sebou musí vzít i své vlastní já.”

“Člověk nedělá vždycky, co je správné, synu," řekl. "Dokonce ani když to ví. V tom někdy bývá kouzlo života. Chápeš?”

“serenity, the calm daughter of tolerance”

“Iga elatud päev tähendab üks päev vähem olemasolu.”

“Igal mehel on mõni hea omadus. Neid tuleb talle ainult näidata.”

“See, mida sa kätte ei saa, paistab alati paremini kui see, mis käes on. Selles seisnebki inimese elu romantika ning idiotism.”

“Aga nii see inimene on: hindab ainult seda, millest ilma jääb.”

“Inimene elatub 75 protsenti omaenda fantaasiast ja ainult 25 protsenti faktidest – see on tema tugevus ja tema nõrkus.”

“Kättemaksuga üksi saab vähe korda saata. Kättemaks kuulub teise, süngema osa juurde, mis korda tuleb saata, kuid mis tuleb pärast seda?”

“Omaks võib nimetada alles seda, mis käes on.”

“Teadmine ei tee kunagi valu. Valu teeb vaid „enne“ ja „pärast“.”

“Armastus teeb naise teravmeelseks, mehe aga võtab juhmiks.”

“Kes midagi ei oota, ei saa ka pettuda. See on hea lähtepunkt. Kõik, mis siis järgneb, lisab juba natukene juurde.”

“Inimene on suur oma kavatsustes, kuid nõrk nende teostamises. Selles peitubki tema armetus ja võlu.”

“Kõik, mida rahaga saab joonde ajada, on odavalt saadud.”

“Üksindus – elu igavene refrään. See ei olnud ei pahem ega parem kui mõnigi muu asi. Sellest räägiti liiga palju. Inimene on alati – ja mitte iial – üksi.”

“Maailmas jätkub kõige jaoks kohta. Ainult mitte inimese jaoks.”

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

“Kui oled surnud, oled kole tähtis – kui elad, ei hooli sust keegi.”

“Ja mis teil südamel ka poleks – ärge pidage seda liiga tähtsaks. Vähe on asju, mis kauaks tähtsaks jäävad.”

“We're no longer young men. We've lost any desire to conquer the world. We are refugees. We are fleeing from ourselves. From our lives. We were eighteen years old, and we had just begun to love the world and to love being in it; but we had to shoot at it. The first shell to land went straight for our hearts. We've been cut off from real action, from getting on, from progress. We don't believe in those things any more; we believe in the war.”

“Die Bücher habe ich nach und nach gekauft von dem Geld, das ich mir Stundengeben verdiente. Viele davon antiquarisch, alle Klassiker zum Beispiel, ein Band kostete eine Mark und zwanzig Pfennig in steifem, blauem Leinen. Ich habe sie vollständig gekauft, denn ich war gründlich, bei ausgewählten Werken traute ich den Herausgebern nicht, ob sie auch das Beste genommen hatten. Deshalb kaufte ich mir "Sämtliche Werke". Gelesen habe ich sie mit ehrlichem Eifer, aber die meisten sagten mir nicht recht zu. Um so mehr hielt ich von den anderen Büchern, den moderneren, die natürlich auch viel teurer waren. Einige davon habe ich nicht ganz ehrlich erworben, ich habe sie ausgeliehen und nicht zurückgegeben, weil ich mich von ihnen nicht trennen mochte.[…]Ich bin aufgeregt; aber ich möchte es nicht sein, denn das ist nicht richtig. Ich will wieder diese stille Hingerissenheit, das Gefühl dieses heftigen, unbenennbaren Dranges verspüren, wie früher, wenn ich vor meine Bücher trat. Der Wind der Wünsche, der aus den bunten Bücherrücken aufstieg, soll mich wieder erfassen, er soll den schweren, toten Bleiblock, der irgendwo in mir liegt, schmelzen und mir wieder die Ungeduld der Zukunft, die beschwingte Freude an der Welt der Gedanken wecken; – er soll mir das verlorene Bereitsein meiner Jugend zurückbringen.”

“Para mí el frente es un siniestro remolino.”

“Sometimes I used to think that one day i should wake up, and all that had been would be over. forgotten, sunk, drowned. Nothing was sure - not even memory.”

“Nothing is the mirror in which you see the world.”

“It's only terrible to have nothing to wait for.”

“It was a melancholy secret that reality can arouse desires but never satisfy them.”

“he begins to notice that he has been turned out of the silent company of the trees, the animals, the stars, and the unconscious life.”

“Life is a disease, brother, and death begins already at birth. Every breath, every heartbeat, is a moment of dying - a little shove toward the end.”

“I wandered through the streets thinking of all the things I might have said and might have done had I been other than I was.”

“For a moment I had a strange intuition that just this, and in a real, profound sense, is life; and perhaps happiness even - love with a mixture of sadness, reverence, and silent knowledge.”