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Quote by Thomas Mann

“Een schrijver is een persoon voor wie schrijven moeilijker is dan voor andere mensen.”

Quote by Thomas Mann

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Thomas Mann
Thomas Mann

Thomas Mann, born on June 6, 1875, and died on August 12, 1955, was a German novelist and one of the greatest writers of the 20th century. Known for his profound psychological portrayals and rich imagination, his works extensively covered themes such as individual and society, history and reality. His masterpieces include 'Buddenbrooks' and 'The Magic Mountain'. more

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“ბედნიერება იმაში კი არ არის, რომ უყვარდეთ; ეს გაძლევს მხოლოდ კმაყოფილების გრძნობას. იყო ბედნიერი - ნიშნავს გიყვარდეს, დაიჭირო წარმავალი, შესაძლოა მაცდური წამიერი გაელვებები, შენი სიყვარულის ობიექტის სიახლოვეს”

Thomas Mann
Book:Tonio Kröger
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“Aschenbach noticed with astonishment the lad's perfect beauty. His faced recalled the noblest moment of Greek sculpture—pale, with a sweet reserve, with clustering honey-coloured ringlets, the brow and nose descending in one line, the winning mouth, the expression of pure and godlike serenity. Yet with all this chaste perfection of form it was of such unique personal charm that the observer though he had never seen, either in nature or art, anything so utterly happy and consummate.”

BeautyMale BeautyThomas Mann
Book:Death in Venice and Other Stories
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“Sun and sea air could not burn his skin, it was the same creamy marble hue as at first—though he did look a little pale, either from the cold or in the bluish moonlight of the arc-lamps. The shapely brows were so delicately drawn, the eyes so deeply dark—lovelier he was than words could say, and as often the thought visited Aschenbach, and brought its own pang, that language could but extol, not reproduce, the beauties of the sense.”

BeautyMale BeautyThomas Mann
Book:Death in Venice and Other Stories
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“The sight of that dear form was unexpected, it had appeared unhoped-for, without giving him time to compose his features. Joy, surprise, and admiration might have painted themselves quite openly upon his face - and just at this second it happened that Tadzio smiled. Smiled at Aschenbach, unabashed and friendly, a speaking, winning, captivating smile, with slowly parting lips. With such a smile it might be that Narcissus bent over the mirroring pool, a smile profound, infatuated, lingering, as he put out his arms to the reflection of his own beauty; the lips just slightly pursed, perhaps half-realizing his own folly in trying to kiss the cold lips of his shadow—with a mingling of coquetry and curiosity and a faint unease, enthralling and enthralled.”

BeautyNarcissusMale BeautyThomas Mann
Book:Death in Venice and Other Stories
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