Анри Барбюс цитаты

Анри Барбюс фото
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Анри Барбюс

Дата рождения: 17. Май 1873
Дата смерти: 30. Август 1935

Анри́ Барбю́с — французский писатель, журналист и общественный деятель. Член Французской коммунистической партии . Иностранный почётный член АН СССР .

Произведение

Under Fire
Анри Барбюс

Цитаты Анри Барбюс

„Лучшее, что может быть в вашей жизни — это находиться в руках этого человека… с головой учёного, лицом рабочего, одежде простого солдата.“

—  Анри Барбюс

о Сталине
Вариант: Лучшее, что может быть в вашей жизни — это находиться в руках этого человека… с головой учёного, лицом рабочего, одежде простого солдата. (о Сталине).

„Ленин живёт всюду, где есть революционеры.“

—  Анри Барбюс

«Сталин: Человек, через которого раскрывается новый мир»
Глава VIII. «Человек у руля»
Staline. Un monde nouveau vu a travers un homme

„После своей смерти человек может жить только на земле.“

—  Анри Барбюс

Вариант: После смерти человек живёт только на земле.

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„После смерти человек живёт только на земле.“

—  Анри Барбюс

«Сталин: Человек, через которого раскрывается новый мир»
Глава VIII. «Человек у руля»
Staline. Un monde nouveau vu a travers un homme

„Ни в ком так не воплощены мысль и слово Ленина, как в Сталине. Сталин — это Ленин сегодня.“

—  Анри Барбюс

«Сталин: Человек, через которого раскрывается новый мир»
Глава VIII. «Человек у руля»
Staline. Un monde nouveau vu a travers un homme

„Desire wears the brain as much as thought wears it. All my being is agog for chances to shine and to be shared.“

—  Henri Barbusse

Light (1919), Ch. VII - A Summary
Контексте: I am looking for the happiness which lives. And truly, when I have a sense of some new assent wavering and making ready, or when I am on the way to a first rendezvous, I feel myself gloriously uplifted, and equal to everything!
This fills my life. Desire wears the brain as much as thought wears it. All my being is agog for chances to shine and to be shared. When they say in my presence of some young woman that, "she is not happy," a thrill of joy tears through me.

„Will the great poet come who shall settle the boundaries of belief and render it eternal, the poet who will be, not a fool, not an ignorant orator, but a wise man, the great inexorable poet?“

—  Henri Barbusse

The Inferno (1917), Ch. XIV
Контексте: I thought of all those wise men, poets, artists before me who had suffered, wept, and smiled on the road to truth. I thought of the Latin poet who wished to reassure and console men by showing them truth as unveiled as a statue. A fragment of his prelude came to my mind, learned long ago, then dismissed and lost like almost everything that I had taken the pains to learn up till then. He said he kept watch in the serene nights to find the words, the poem in which to convey to men the ideas that would deliver them. For two thousand years men have always had to be reassured and consoled. For two thousand years I have had to be delivered. Nothing has changed the surface of things. The teachings of Christ have not changed the surface of things, and would not even if men had not ruined His teachings so that they can no longer follow them honestly. Will the great poet come who shall settle the boundaries of belief and render it eternal, the poet who will be, not a fool, not an ignorant orator, but a wise man, the great inexorable poet? I do not know, although the lofty words of the man who died in the boarding-house have given me a vague hope of his coming and the right to adore him already.

„It'll be no good telling about it, eh? They wouldn't believe you; not out of malice or through liking to pull your leg, but because they couldn't.“

—  Henri Barbusse, книга Under Fire

Under Fire (1916), Ch. 24 - The Dawn
Контексте: The paralysis of cold was passing away from the knot of sufferers, though the light no longer made any progress over the great irregular marsh of the lower plain. The desolation proceeded, but not the day.
Then he who spoke sorrowfully, like a bell, said. "It'll be no good telling about it, eh? They wouldn't believe you; not out of malice or through liking to pull your leg, but because they couldn't. When you say to 'em later, if you live to say it, 'We were on a night job and we got shelled and we were very nearly drowned in mud,' they'll say, 'Ah!' And p'raps they'll say. 'You didn't have a very spicy time on the job.' And that's all. No one can know it. Only us."
"No, not even us, not even us!" some one cried.
"That's what I say, too. We shall forget — we're forgetting already, my boy!"
"We've seen too much to remember."
"And everything we've seen was too much. We're not made to hold it all. It takes its damned hook in all directions. We're too little to hold it."
"You're right, we shall forget! Not only the length of the big misery, which can't be calculated, as you say, ever since the beginning, but the marches that turn up the ground and turn it again, lacerating your feet and wearing out your bones under a load that seems to grow bigger in the sky, the exhaustion until you don't know your own name any more, the tramping and the inaction that grind you, the digging jobs that exceed your strength, the endless vigils when you fight against sleep and watch for an enemy who is everywhere in the night, the pillows of dung and lice — we shall forget not only those, but even the foul wounds of shells and machine-guns, the mines, the gas, and the counter-attacks. At those moments you're full of the excitement of reality, and you've some satisfaction. But all that wears off and goes away, you don't know how and you don't know where, and there's only the names left, only the words of it, like in a dispatch."
"That's true what he says," remarks a man, without moving his head in its pillory of mud. When I was on leave, I found I'd already jolly well forgotten what had happened to me before. There were some letters from me that I read over again just as if they were a book I was opening. And yet in spite of that, I've forgotten also all the pain I've had in the war. We're forgetting-machines. Men are things that think a little but chiefly forget. That's what we are."
"Then neither the other side nor us'll remember! So much misery all wasted!"
This point of view added to the abasement of these beings on the shore of the flood, like news of a greater disaster, and humiliated them still more.
"Ah, if one did remember!" cried some one.
"If we remembered," said another, "there wouldn't be any more war."

„I have heard the annunciation of whatever finer things are to come. Through me has passed, without staying me in my course, the Word which does not lie, and which, said over again, will satisfy.“

—  Henri Barbusse

The Inferno (1917), Ch. XVII
Контексте: What I have seen is going to disappear, since I shall do nothing with it. I am like a mother the fruit of whose womb will perish after it has been born.
What matter? I have heard the annunciation of whatever finer things are to come. Through me has passed, without staying me in my course, the Word which does not lie, and which, said over again, will satisfy.

„Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Etiam egestas wisi a erat. Morbi imperdiet, mauris ac auctor dictum.“

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