A Quote by Erich Maria Remarque

We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial—I believe we are lost. — © Erich Maria Remarque
We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial—I believe we are lost.
Oh, I am very old fashioned about my literature taste. I like Henry James. I like George Elliot. I like Dostoyevsky. I like the old people. I really do. I like people who write big, fat, juicy novels you can get completely lost in!
Who do you think, as you gaze at the entire scene in Washington, who is it that's acting like a bunch of children? It isn't Trump. Who is it throwing the tantrums because they didn't get their way? Who is it acting like hysterical spoiled brats because their side lost the game? Who is it that's insisting, because they lost the game, that the rules be changed? Who is it that's acting like any average eight- to nine-year-old kid who's told he can't have any more Twinkies or whatever kids - marijuana; I don't know.
I think of the people who commit these acts as children. They're in their 20s, but like certain children, they have been told only one story, over and over. Like most children, they believe in an easily identifiable good and evil, and like most children, they are capable of unthinkable cruelty.
In general, children, like men, and men, like children, prefer entertainment to education.
Do you know anything about fashion magazines? Being treated like superficial bimbos by men like you, and having to write about designer brands. Do you know what that feels like?
But later that day, the streets of Kweilin were strewn with newspapers reporting great Kuomintang victories, and on top of these papers, like fresh fish from a butcher, lay rows of people - men, women and children who had never lost hope, but had lost their lives instead.
It may seem like I came out of the blue. But, my road was long, windy, full of hurdles, and even some dead ends. I lost family. I lost friends. I even lost my way. When I reached what felt like rock bottom, I realized I had a responsibility to everyone who believed in me and to kids, like me, who just needed a chance and something to believe in.
When my parents were arrested, I was a year old. And like so many children with incarcerated parents, I experienced a range of traumas connected to the separation. I was angry. I was ashamed. I had developmental delays, behavioral problems.
The LGBTQ community refers to people's sexual preferences - lesbians like women, gay people like men - and children shouldn't be walking advertisements for sexuality when they are not old enough to make their own decisions.
I just really like women, and I like men, and I like children, and I like eating, and I like doing everything.
My friends, when I was young, were always older than I was, and I've always liked them. And I love old men and old ladies, really. But I've known more elderly men, like Max Beerbohm, like Beranard Berenson, like Somerset Maugham, Winston Churchill-I'd put him first, anyway-what they say is so wise and so good. They know what they're talking about.
..he continues to cling to the forlorn hope that I will turn into one of those swooning females...and fling myself squeeling at him whenever anything happens. Like all men, he clings to his illusions.
I do not say that children at war do not die like men, if they have to die. To their everlasting honor and our everlasting shame, they do die like men, thus making possible the manly jubilation of patriotic holidays. But they are murdered children all the same.
Children like yourselves are full of magic, but the men have turned, they've lost their magic to the fear and hatred they harbor for all that they can't explain, control, or understand.
I believe I'm experienced, it's my third year, I know what to expect... Just stay tuned in at practice, watching in the film room, doing everything you can for your body to stay right... I don't even like to call myself an old veteran, it's only my third year, but I believe I know what it takes.
You like him because he's a lost boy. Believe me, I've seen it happen before. But do you know what happens to girls who love lost boys? They become lost themselves. Without fail.
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