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

Erich Maria Remarque

Erich Maria Remarque

Profession: Novelist
Nationality: German

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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.

The later it gets the more disturbed the city becomes. I go with Albert through the streets. Men are standing in groups at every corner. Rumours are flying. It is said that the military have already fired on a procession of demonstrating workers.

They are more human and more brotherly towards one another, it seems to me, than we are. But perhaps that is merely because they feel themselves to be more unfortunate than us.

You may turn into an archangel, a fool, or a criminal ? no one will see it. But when a button is missing?everyone sees that.

We were all at once terribly alone; and alone we must see it through.

Life did not intend to make us perfect. Whoever is perfect belongs in a museum.

Modesty and conscientiousness receive their reward only in novels. In life they are exploited and then shoved aside.

Anyway the war is over so far as they are concerned. But to wait for dysentery is not much of a life either.

Any non-commissioned officer is more of an enemy to a recruit, any schoolmaster to a pupil, then they are if they were free.

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

It is very queer that the unhappiness of the world is so often brought on by small men.

A hospital alone shows what war is.

Keep things at arm's length... If you let anything come too near you want to hold on to it. And there is nothing a man can hold on to.

On the steps is a machine-gun ready for action. The square is empty; only the streets that lead into it are jammed with people. It would be madness to go farther - the machine-gun is covering the square.