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d17cf81
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For , literally translated, 'Since it must be so,' of all the good-bys I have heard is the most beautiful. Unlike the and , it does not try to cheat itself by any bravado 'Till we meet again,' any sedative to postpone the pain of separation. It does not evade the issue like the sturdy blinking . is a father's . It is - 'Go out in the world and do well, my son.' It is encouragement and admonition. It is hope and faith. But it passes over the significance of the moment; of parting it says nothing. It hides its emotion. It says too little. While ('God be with you') and say too much. They try to bridge the distance, almost to deny it. is a prayer, a ringing cry. 'You must not go - I cannot bear to have you go! But you shall not go alone, unwatched. God will be with you. God's hand will over you' and even - underneath, hidden, but it is there, incorrigible - 'I will be with you; I will watch you - always.' It is a mother's . But says neither too much nor too little. It is a simple acceptance of fact. All understanding of life lies in its limits. All emotion, smoldering, is banked up behind it. But it says nothing. It is really the unspoken good-by, the pressure of a hand, 'Sayonara.
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spanish
emotion
god
japanese
goodbyes
german
farewell
english
french
mother
father
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Anne Morrow Lindbergh |
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a3f44d4
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She walked down the basement steps. She saw an imaginary framed photo seep into the wall - a quiet-smiled secret. No more than a few meters, it was a long walk to the drop sheets and the assortment of paint cans that shielded Max Vandenburg. She removed the sheets closest to the wall until there was a small corridor to look through. The first part of him she saw was his shoulder, and through the slender gap, she slowly, painfully, inched her hand in until it rested there. His clothing was cool. He did not wake. She could feel his breathing and his shoulder moving up and down ever so slightly. For a while, she watched him. Then she sat and leaned back. Sleepy air seemed to have followed her. The scrawled words of practice stood magnificently on the wall by the stairs, jagged and childlike and sweet. They looked on as both the hidden Jew and the girl slept, hand to shoulder. They breathed. German and Jewish lungs.
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sleep
friendship
the-book-thief
german
jewish
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Markus Zusak |
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36a1d61
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He had been thinking of how landscape moulds a language. It was impossible to imagine these hills giving forth anything but the soft syllables of Irish, just as only certain forms of German could be spoken on the high crags of Europe; or Dutch in the muddy, guttural, phlegmish lowlands.
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landscape
german
language
irish
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Alexander McCall Smith |
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b906f72
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Am I racially kin to this man? Baynes wondered. So closely so that for all intents and purposes it is the same? Then it is in me, too, the psychotic streak. A psychotic world we live in. The madmen are in power. How long have we known this? Faced this? And--how many of us do know it?
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future
psychosis
german
totalitarianism
nazism
government
fascism
power
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Philip K. Dick |
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38a2491
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And to this world, to this scene of tormented and agonised beings, who only continue to exist by devouring each other, in which, therefore, every ravenous beast is the living grave of thousands of others, and its self-maintenance is a chain of painful deaths; and in which the capacity for feeling pain increases with knowledge, and therefore reaches its highest degree in man, a degree which is the higher the more intelligent the man is; to this world it has been sought to apply the system of optimism, and demonstrate to us that it is the best of all possible worlds. The absurdity is glaring.
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philosophy
englisch
philosophie
german
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Arthur Schopenhauer |
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b7b9ef5
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If they were going to be like that, then I just wished they hadn't actually been German. It was too easy. Too obvious. It was like coming across an Irishman who actually was stupid, a mother-in-law who actually was fat, or an American businessman who actually did have a middle initial and smoked a cigar. You feel as if you are unwillingly performing in a music-hall sketch and wishing you could rewrite the script. If Helmut and Kurt had been Brazilian or Chinese or Latvian or anything else at all, they could then have behaved in exactly the same way and it would have been surprising and intriguing and, more to the point from my perspective, much easier to write about. Writers should not be in the business of propping up stereotypes. I wondered what to do about it, decided that they could simply be Latvians if I wanted, and then at last drifted off peacefully to worrying about my boots.
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stereotypes
humour
german
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Douglas Adams |
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aff077a
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Gemeinsam aber ist allen Menschen, die des guten Willens sind, dieses: dass unsere Werke uns am Ende beschamen, dass wir immer wieder von vorn beginnen mussen, dass das Opfer immer neu gebracht werden muss.
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writing
works
kreativität
schaffen
schreiben
werk
german
creative-writing
creativity
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Hermann Hesse |
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d487d5c
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Wenn jemand starb, dem du dein Herz geschenkt hattest, nahm er es dann mit?
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german
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Jodi Picoult |
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0f9ad03
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Man mag noch so viel uber die beliebte Dreiecksthematik des Theaters schimpfen; zwei Personen alleine auf der Buhne, was sollen sie tun, als sich totdiskutieren oder insgeheim nach dem Dritten sehnen.
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romance
german
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Günter Grass |
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4e71e9d
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An und fur sich ist uns das Lachen immer nah; trotz allem Jammer unseres Lebens ist ein leises Lachen bei uns gewissermassen immer zu Hause.
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german
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Franz Kafka |
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0840a55
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Oh, I thought of calling it Journeyings in Germany. It sounds well, and would be correct. Or Jottings from German Journeyings--I haven't quite decided yet... (Minora)
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german
german-garden
minora
garden
journey
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Elizabeth von Arnim |
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64228df
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So much for progress. How quickly civilization could dissolve into its more ugly elements.
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progress
elements
german
germans
ugly
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Kate Atkinson |
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46f2b89
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Das Fegen der Wandelgange ist eine lastige Angelegenheit an diesem Nachmittag: Kaum sind die Blatter und Piniennadeln zusammengekehrt, blast der Wind den Haufen davon. Wolken ziehen uber dem Kahlen Gipfel auf und verschutten eisigen Nieselregen.
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german
japan
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David Mitchell |
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543297e
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Warner laces his boots and sings the songs and marches the marches, acting less out of duty than out of a time worn desire to be dutiful.
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war
werner
german
duty
germany
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Anthony Doerr |
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bc17132
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But every once in a great while, the pull of her heritage would hit her, and Grand-mere would cook something real. I could never figure out what it was that triggered her, but I would come home from school to a glorious aroma. An Apfel-strudel, with paper-thin pastry wrapped around chunks of apples and nuts and raisins. The thick smoked pork chops called Kasseler ribs, braised in apple cider and served with caraway-laced sauerkraut. A rich baked dish with sausages, duck, and white beans. And hoppel poppel. A traditional German recipe handed down from her mother. I haven't even thought of it in years. But when my mom left, it was the only thing I could think to do for Joe, who was confused and heartbroken, and it was my best way to try to get something in him that didn't come in a cardboard container. I never got to learn at her knee the way many granddaughters learn to cook; she never shared the few recipes that were part of my ancestry. But hoppel poppel is fly by the seat of your pants, it doesn't need a recipe; it's a mess, just like me. It's just what the soul needs. I grab an onion, and chop half of it. I cut up the cold cooked potatoes into chunks. I pull one of my giant hot dogs out, and cut it into thick coins. Grand-mere used ham, but Joe loved it with hot dogs, and I do too. Plus I don't have ham. I whisk six eggs in a bowl, and put some butter on to melt. The onions and potatoes go in, and while they are cooking, I grate a pile of Swiss cheese, nicking my knuckle, but catching myself before I bleed into my breakfast. By the time I get a Band-Aid on it, the onions have begun to burn a little, but I don't care. I dump in the hot dogs and hear them sizzle, turning down the heat so that I don't continue to char the onions. When the hot dogs are spitting and getting a little browned, I add the eggs and stir up the whole mess like a scramble. When the eggs are pretty much set, I sprinkle the cheese over the top and take it off the heat, letting the cheese melt while I pop three slices of bread in the toaster. When the toast is done, I butter it, and eat the whole mess on the counter, using the crispy buttered toast to scoop chunk of egg, potato, and hot dog into my mouth, strings of cheese hanging down my chin. Even with the burnt onions, and having overcooked the eggs to rubbery bits, it is exactly what I need.
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grand-mere
hoppel-poppel
hot-dogs
onions
german
potatoes
cooking
ingredients
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Stacey Ballis |
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3e7eef6
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Comment, Mademoiselle? Vous appelles cela betrugen? Corriger la fortune, l'enchainer sous ses doits, etre sur de son fait, das nenn die Deutsch betrugen? betrugen! O, was ist die deutsch Sprak fur ein arm Sprak! fur ein plump Sprak!
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humorous
funny
german
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Gotthold Ephraim Lessing |