Elie Wiesel
October 26, 2010 | Cindy
But though peace can be told in words, war cannot. Words can only incite the murderous hatred that is war but words cannot describe it. In principle, one should not be able to put it into words, this horror that is war, this blasphemy that is war, this grotesque agony, this licensed slaughter, this glorified butchery that is war. James Joyce knew that, as did Franz Kafka; neither wrote about the First World War. War kills the dream along with the dreamer; It blinds the mind's eye so it cannot see the horizon. ~ from The Time of the Uprooted
...if only I could retain everything I've learned from those I have known.
Despair is the refugee's everyday companion.
A breeze whispers through the trees without disturbing their branches. Whence does it come? Who sent it? To stir what memories?
..a man has to make his own mistakes before he can find his way with more self-respect and humility.
Tags: breeze, despair, Elie Wiesel, James Joyce, Kafka, mistakes, refugee, self-respect, Time of the Uprooted, war, Words | 0 comments
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