The misery of war represented the world’s only truly universal language.
Private chagrins are still more dreadful than public calamities.[Les chagrins secrets sont encore plus cruels que les misères publiques.]
Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.
Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery.
We can never flee the misery that is within us.
To be caught happy in a world of misery was for an honest man the most despicable of crimes.
Though the rich of this earth find no difficulty in creating misery, they can’t bear to see it.[Aber ich habe herausgebracht, daß die Besitzenden der Erde das Elend zwar anstiften können, aber sehen können sie das Elend nicht.]
The secret of being miserable is to have leisure to bother about whether you are happy or not. The cure for it is occupation.
The misery stayed, not thought about but aching away, and sometimes I would have to ask myself, Why do I ache? Men can get used to anything, but it takes time.
The miserable’s name is Man; he is agonizing in all climes, and he is groaning in all languages.[Le misérable s’appelle l’homme; il agonise sous tous les climats, et il gémit dans toutes les langues.]
Reduced to a miserable mass level, the level of a Hitler, German Romanticism broke out into hysterical barbarism.
No one is more miserable than the person who wills everything and can do nothing.
