Bertolt Brecht
Bertolt Brecht
Eugen Bertolt Friedrich Brechtwas a German poet, playwright, and theatre director of the 20th century. He made contributions to dramaturgy and theatrical production, the latter through the tours undertaken by the Berliner Ensemble – the post-war theatre company operated by Brecht and his wife, long-time collaborator and actress Helene Weigel...
NationalityGerman
ProfessionPlaywright
Date of Birth10 February 1898
CityAugsburg, Germany
CountryGermany
He who fights, can lose. He who doesn't fight, has already lost.
Here today we huddle tight As the darkest heathens might The snow falls chilly on our skin The snow is forcing its way in. Hush, snow, come in with us to dwell: We were thrown out by Heaven as well.
For time flows on, and if it did not, it would be a bad prospect for those who do not sit at golden tables. Methods become exhausted; stimuli no longer work. New problems appear and demand new methods. Reality changes; in order to represent it, modes of representation must also change. Nothing comes from nothing; the new comes from the old, but that is why it is new.
Nowadays, anyone who wishes to combat lies and ignorance and to write the truth must overcome at least five difficulties. He must have the courage to write the truth when truth is everywhere opposed; the keenness to recognize it, although it is everywhere concealed; the skill to manipulate it as a weapon; the judgment to select those in whose hands it will be effective; and the running to spread the truth among such persons.
Oh why do we not say the important things, it would be so easy, and we are damned because we do not.
Spring is noticed, if at all By people sitting in railway trains.
Of all the works of man I like best Those which have been used. The copper pots with their dents and flattened edges The knives and forks whose wooden handles Have been worn away by many hands: such forms Seemed to me the noblest.
General, man is very useful. He can fly and he can kill. But he has one defect: He can think.
The headlong stream is termed violent But the river bed hemming it in is Termed violent by no one.
Come in, dear wind, and be our guest You too have neither home nor rest.
Their peace and their war Are like wind and storm. War grows from their peace.
For what's the use of talking with a man who has a disease and thinks about the stars?
One can describe the world of today to the people of today only if one describes it as capable of alteration.
It was never decreed that a god mustn't pay hotel bills.