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Quote by Éric-Emmanuel Schmitt

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Éric-Emmanuel Schmitt, Monsieur Ibrahim et les fleurs du Coran

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Éric-Emmanuel Schmitt

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“In a word, do you want to know how briefly they really live? See how keen they are to live a long life. Enfeebled old men beg in their prayers for an additional few years; they pretend they are younger than they really are; they flatter themselves by this falsehood, and deceive themselves as gladly as if they deceived fate at the same time. But when some real illness has at last reminded them that they are mortal, how terrified they are when they die, as if they're not leaving life but are being dragged from it! They cry out repeatedly that they've been fools because they've not really lived, and that they'll live in leisure if only they escape their illness. Then they reflect on how uselessly they made provision for things they wouldn't live to enjoy, and how fruitless was all their toil.”

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Book:On the Shortness of Life: Life Is Long if You Know How to Use It
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“A new era! Yes, the cataclysm has done its work well. The greatest population regulator of all does once more for man what he refuses to do for himself, and drives the pitiful few who survive into a new stone age. Once more the earth has shifted its 60-mile thick shell, with the poles moving almost to the equator in a fraction of a day. Again the atmosphere and oceans, refusing to change direction with the earth's shell, have wiped out almost all life.”

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Book:The Adam & Eve Story: The History of Cataclysms
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“Alas, alas! we poor mortals are often little better than wood-ashes — there is small sign of the sap, and the leafy freshness, and the bursting buds that were once there; but wherever we see wood-ashes, we know that all that early fullness of life must have been. I, at least, hardly ever look at a bent old man, or a wizened old woman, but I see also, with my mind’s eye, that Past of which they are the shrunken remnant, and the unfinished romance of rosy cheeks and bright eyes seems sometimes of feeble interest and significance, compared with that drama of hope and love which has long ago reached its catastrophe, and left the poor soul, like a dim and dusty stage, with all its sweet garden-scenes and fair perspectives overturned and thrust out of sight.”

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Book:Scenes of Clerical Life
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