Author of quotes: Ilya Grigoryevich Ehrenburg

What the Gestapo called "work" meant death in every other language.

Ehrenburg derived this formula in his column “Justification of Hatred” dated May 26, 1942.

We're going to judge.

The story is able to retaliate.

Unfortunately, today there are people who want to keep the infection "in reserve", just some diluted broth, which bred plague bacteria... We need to remember that fascism was born from the greed and stupidity of some, by treachery and cowardice of others. If humanity wants to end up with a bloody nightmare these years, it must end with fascism. If fascism will leave somewhere for divorce, in ten or twenty years back will spill rivers of blood... Fascism is a terrible cancer, it cannot be treated on the mineral waters, it should be removed. I don't believe in good heart of people who are crying over the executioners, these supposed good souls prepare death to millions of innocents.

But among the fifty million victims of world war II no one - fascism. He survived and may 1945, were ill, had pohodil, but survived. During the war I was repeated from day to day: we must come to Germany to destroy fascism. I was afraid that all the sacrifices, the heroism of the Soviet people, the courage of the partisans in Poland, Yugoslavia, France, grief and pride of London, the furnaces of Auschwitz, rivers of blood - this could be a Sparkler of victory, an episode of history, if you will take over again low, dirty politics.

We know everything. We remember all. We understood: Germans not people. From now on word "German" for us the most terrible curse. From now on word "German" discharges the gun. Not going to talk. We will not be indignant. We will kill. If you did not kill the day at least one German, your day is gone. If you think that you Germans will kill your neighbor, you do not understand the threat. If you don't kill a German, a German will kill you. He will take yours and will torment them in their accursed Germany. If you can't kill a German with a bullet, kill a German with a bayonet. If your site lull, if you're waiting for the battle, kill a German before the fight. If you leave the Germans to live, the German will hang a Russian man and disgrace a Russian woman. If you kill one German, kill another - there is nothing more fun for us German corpses. Do not count days. Do not count miles. Think of one thing: the Germans killed thee. Kill the Germans! - it asks old mother. Kill the Germans! - it begs you child. Kill the Germans! - it screams native land. You better not miss. Don't miss. Kill!

Look at the snow, and one in my head:
This is the day, and what a dark!
And the sun of winter, it is for an hour
Hurry - you look, and day out.

It was in the life of a little mignonette,
A lot of blood, ashes and misery.
I'm not complaining about his lot,
I would only see wanted
One day, an ordinary day,
To tree in deep shadow
Meant nothing, the dark,
Except in summer, silence, and sleep.

Die the gardener that plants the seed,
And you will not see the first fruit.
Oh, time is a deceptive burden!
Motionless air, frozen water,
Dew, like tears, is about loss,
Reminiscent of the mummy cocoon
Comes to life under the gaze of the stone statues
And lizards nepotist sleep.

Nobody will tell me after lesson "listen",
Nobody will tell me at dinner, "eat",
And no one will call me Ilya,
And nobody will be able to caress,
As she caressed the little mother.

That truly sounded Lira,
You must silent be,
Forever to depart from the world,
To leave and forget.
And the Mars and Eros, and Venus,
Believe me, they are all
Verse blind Homer
In his immutable glory.
As a mathematician, logarithms,
As a priest the laws of magic
Vzljubili unfound rhyme
And unusual words.

There is a town with dusty outposts
With large Golden heads,
With wooden mansions,
With the mechanics forever drunk
And so close and cute
In words: Arbat, Dorogomilovo...

Like the German old town
The square lime,
Small Windows with geraniums,
On the bench silver horn
And throughout that hint
A cute romance.
Summer rain.
Endeared me a pale red color carrot
On the gray stone.
For colored glass checkered cloth,
And the bird cries of the will,
Delicate, long.