I was in the land of the moon and I’ve come back, and here you are and you are life.
Erich Maria Remarque, Arch of Triumph (tr. by Walter Sorell & Denver Lindley), 1945
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Herkesin kafasının içinde kendine göre bir işkence odası var.
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-All Quiet on the Western Front, Erich Maria Remarque (trans. A. W. Wheen)
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"I want that quiet rapture again. I want to feel the same powerful, nameless urge that I used to feel when I turned to my books. The breath of desire that then arose from the coloured backs of the books, shall fill me again, melt the heavy, dead lump of lead that lies somewhere in me and waken again the impatience of the future, the quick joy in the world of thought, it shall bring back again the lost eagerness of my youth. I sit and wait."
-Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet On The Western Front
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We have our dreams because without them we could not bear the truth.
Erich Maria Remarque, Arch of Triumph (tr. by Walter Sorell & Denver Lindley), 1945
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Have you got all the identity discs, Albert?" Ludwig asked. "Yes," replied Trosske, adding softly so that Kosole should not hear it: "Schröder's among them."(...)
"Does he know?" he asked, looking toward where Kosole was digging.(...) Schröder had been Kosole's friend. We had never understood it quite, for Schröder was delicate and frail, a mere child, and the direct opposite of Ferdinand. Yet Ferdinand used to look after him like a mother.(...)
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"Look out, here comes Schröder," Jupp called to us as he let the waterproof slide.
"Shut your mouth!" hissed Bröger. Kosole still had the body in his arms. "Who?" he asked, uncomprehending.
''Schröder," repeated Jupp, supposing Ferdinand knew already. "Don't be funny, you bloody fool, he was captured," growled Kosole angrily.
"It is, Ferdinand," said Albert Trosske, who was standing nearby. We held our breath. Kosole gathered up the body and climbed out. He took his torch from his pocket and shone it upon the corpse. He stooped down close over what was left of the face and examined it.(...)
We stood motionless through the next seconds. Kosole straightened himself up. "Give me a shovel," said he sharply. I handed him one. We expected bloody murder. But Kosole merely began to dig. Allowing none to help him, he made a grave for Schröder apart. He placed him in it himself.(...) Albert stood pale beside him. Schröder used to sit with him at school. But Kosole looked terrible. He was quite grey and decayed and said never a word.
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Our bodies are like thin membranes stretched over barely repressed madness.
All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque
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