A good soldier has his heart and soul in it. When he receives an order, he gets a hard on, and when he drives his lance through his enemy’s guts, he comes.
BERTOLT BRECHTGo make yourself a plan And be a shining light. Then make yourself a second plan, For neither will come right.
More Bertolt Brecht Quotes
-
-
When evil-doing comes like falling rain, nobody calls out “stop!” When crimes begin to pile up they become invisible. When sufferings become unendurable the cries are no longer heard. The cries, too, fall like rain in summer.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
We attacked a foreign people and treated them like rebels. As you know, it’s all right to treat barbarians barbarically. It’s the desire to be barbaric that makes governments call their enemies barbarians.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
Right is its own defense.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
Even the most blockheaded bureaucrat, provided he loves peace, is a greater lover of the arts than any so-called art-lover who loves the arts of war.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
If art reflects life, it does so with special mirrors.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
Pleasures First look from morning’s window The rediscovered book Fascinated faces Snow, the change of the seasons
BERTOLT BRECHT -
The rain Never falls upwards. When the wound Stops hurting What hurts is The scar.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
What a miserable thing life is: you’re in clover; only the clover isn’t good enough.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
What is the robbing of a bank compared to the founding of a bank?
BERTOLT BRECHT -
Who has good luck is good, Who has bad luck is bad.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
Unhappiness doesn’t grow on the chest like leprosy. Poverty won’t fall off the roof like a loose tile, no; poverty and unhappiness are man’s doing.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
Those who have had no share in the good fortunes of the mighty Often have a share in their misfortunes.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
When crimes begin to pile up they become invisible. When sufferings become unendurable the cries are no longer heard. The cries, too, fall like rain in summer.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
In the contradiction lies the hope.
BERTOLT BRECHT -
Oh! Moon of Alabama We now must say good-bye We’ve lost our good old mama And must have whiskey Oh, you know why!
BERTOLT BRECHT








