Pilecki Witold Quotes & Sayings

These truths may seem simple and self-apparent and the words easy to say, but the states of mind that you live in as you progress are beautiful beyond description. — Frederick Lenz

I always thought it was both impious and unnatural that such immanity and bloody strife should reign among professors of one faith. — William Shakespeare

I carried out my orders until arrested. I had no sense that I was spying, and I ask that this be taken into account in deciding my verdict. — Witold Pilecki

So they didn't let anybody else off. I can't live like this, I'm finished. Auschwitz was easy. — Witold Pilecki

High school sucks. People who say those were the best years of your life - those people are liars ... Who wants the best years of their life to be in *high school*? High school is something *everybody* should be ready to lose. — Meg Cabot

Reality was dawning on him and he hated reality. If you were him, so would you. — Carla H. Krueger

My grandmother had a lilac bush at her home in Long Island. I always associate the scent of it with her and try to have lilacs in my home. — Aerin Lauder

I can't remember ever staying for the end of a movie in which the actors wore togas. — Jimmy Cannon

Half my life was spent trying to be a better person, but you reach a certain age and you realize you don't have a choice about who you are. All of us are slaves to ourselves. — Gareth P. Jones

But I give you my word, in the entire book there is nothing that cannot be said aloud in mixed company. And there is, also, nothing that makes you a bit the wiser. I wonder
oh, what will you think of me
if those two statements do not verge upon the synonymous. — Dorothy Parker

A Brotherhood with the grim knowledge of what is better for other people & the iron determination to better them whether they like it or not. — Leonora Carrington

hope; like calcium, hope was part of the structure of her bones. — Dean Koontz

Men love war because it allows them to look serious. Because they imagine it is the one thing that stops women laughing at them. In it they can reduce women to the status of objects. That is the great distinction between the sexes. Men see objects, women see relationship between objects. Whether the objects love each other, need each other, match each other. It is an extra dimension of feeling we men are without and one that makes war abhorrent to all real women - and absurd. I will tell you what war is. War is a psychosis caused by an inability to see relationships. Our relationship with our fellow-men. Our relationship with our economic and historical situation. And above all our relationship to nothingness. To death. — John Fowles

Christ died for men precisely because men are not worth dying for; to make them worth it. — C.S. Lewis

I'm not a model - I have curves. I find things that accentuate my body, a woman's body, and I always wear things that I feel comfortable in. — Demi Lovato

A man fighting for his life can do more than he ever imagined he could. — Witold Pilecki

During the first 3 years at Auschwitz, 2 million people died; over the next 2 years - 3 million. — Witold Pilecki

Being a man is a privilege, not an entitlement. It is a surrender of our priority. It is a laying down of our lives, not physically but inwardly - our preferences, our pleasures, sometimes even our dreams. Our version of Witold Pilecki's medals comes in the lives we offer to God, lives we have bled and sweated and prayed and given ourselves for. This is what it means to be a man. — Stephen Mansfield

Modern science fiction is the only form of literature that consistently considers the nature of the changes that face us. — Isaac Asimov

For, after all, you do grow up, you do outgrow your ideals, which turn to dust and ashes, which are shattered into fragments; and if you have no other life, you just have to build one up out of these fragments. And all the time your soul is craving and longing for something else. And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were a heap of cinders, looking in these cinders for some spark, however tiny, to fan it into a flame so as to warm his chilled blood by it and revive in it all that he held so dear before, all that touched his heart, that made his blood course through his veins, that drew tears from his eyes, and that so splendidly deceived him! — Fyodor Dostoyevsky