Quotes from Aharon Appelfeld

The Holocaust is a central event in many people's lives, but it has also become a metaphor for our century. There cannot be an end to speaking and writing about it.

People who lose their parents when young are permanently in love with them.

Over time I learned that objects and animals are true friends. In the forest I was surrounded by trees, bushes, birds, and small animals. I was not afraid of them. I was sure that they would do nothing harmful to me. I became familiar with cows and with horses, and they provided me with a warmth that has remained with me to this very day. Sometimes it seemed to me that what saved me were the animals I encountered along the way, not the human beings.

Wenn man keine Sprache hat, ist alles Durcheinander, und man hat Angst vor Dingen, von denen man sich nicht zu fürchten braucht. In dieser Zeit stotterten die meisten der Kinder um mich herum, sprachen laut oder verschluckten die Wörter. Wenn man keine Sprache hat, offenbart sich der nackte Charakter. Die Vielredner unter uns wurden noch lauter, und die in sich gekehrten verschluckten ihre Stimme. Ohne Muttersprache ist der Mensch verstümmelt.

I didn't see her die, but I did hear her one and only scream

Le passé en lui-même est un très mauvais matériau pour la littérature. La littérature est un présent brûlant, non au sens journalistique, mais comme une aspiration à transcender le temps en une présence éternelle

Words are powerless when confronted by catastrophe; they're pitiable, wretched, and easily distorted

Le des tin des abstractions est de s'accrocher à vous un instant puis de disparaître. Seuls les mots qui sont des images demeurent. Le reste est un brin de paille. Pourtant il me fallut des années pour me libérer des érudits, de leur tutelle, de leur sourire supérieur, et revenir à mes amis fidèles qui savaient qu'un homme n'est rien d'autre qu'une pelote de faiblesses et de peurs.

Since they were unable to liberate themselves from the old words and the fear, they prowled the streets and cast their angry shadows.

One night I heard one of the refugees say, "There are atrocities that one should not speak about." "Why?" wondered another refugee. "I can't explain it to you." "You have to speak about everything, so that everyone will know what they did to us." "I'm not going to argue with you." "If we won't be witnesses, who will bear witness?" "They won't believe us, anyway.

Había días en que las pesadillas lo perseguían, y por la mañana se levantaba y no recordaba nada. Ya había aprendido que un sueño que se olvida por la mañana no desaparece, se esconde y escarba en secreto, y que hay sueños olvidados que salen a la superficie en mitad del día.

Where are you from, Jews?" asked the rabbi as people used to ask in the old days. An ancient grief glazed his eyes.

Tutti cercavano di nascondere al nonno le sue condizioni e la situazione che ci circondava. Il nonno sapeva tutto, ma non permetteva che la confusione ed il caos lo sommergessero. Parlava della morte come usava parlare prima di ogni lngo viaggio. (...) Andavo a trovarlo una volta al giorno. (...) Una volta mi raccontò una parabola che non riuscii a capire; lui parve accorgersene e disse: "Non fa niente, l'importante è amare questa mattinata".

Il pericolo era grande, ma eravamo pronti a rischiare e nascondemmo il bambino dentro una cassa. Di notte toglievamo il coperchio per dargli da bere e da mangiare. Durante quell'autunno il pensiero di avere un bambino nella baracca cambiò la nostra vita: facevamo a gara a chi gli avrebbe dato la propria razione. Ciascuno di noi lottava per offrirgliela.

True literature engages what is concealed in fate and hidden in the human soul; it exists in the metaphysical realms.

The melody is the soul of all poetry and prose.

De taal is een instrument in handen van de gedachte, je moet je helder en exact uitdrukken.

I remember the school janitors who supervised the schoolyard. Cold and cunning, they were the supreme arbiters and would instill fear in everyone. If a child got out of control, they would tie him up and give him ten lashes. After receiving his punishment, the child had to kiss the hand of the one who had lashed him, say, "As you command, Father," and then leave the area. This ritual was repeated several times a week.

We zullen de koe melken maar we zullen haar niet slachten.

During the war, I honed my sense of suspicion into a fine art. Before approaching a house, a stable, or a barn, I would bend down to the ground and listen, sometimes for hours. By the sounds, I could tell if there were people there, and how many. People were always a sign of danger.

I spent much of the war flat on the ground, listening. Among other things, I learned to listen to the birds. They are remarkable harbingers, not only of imminent rain, but also of bad people and wild beasts.

Only much later did I understand that this raw material is the very marrow of literature, and that, from it, it's possible to create an interior narrative. I say "interior" because at that time chronicles were considered to be where truth was to be found. "Interior" expression had not yet been born.

Can art be completely invented? It's a matter of shaping reality with the help of imagination.

People who lose their parents when young are permanently in love with them.