B. Traven > Quotes

“Anyone who is willing to work and is serious about it will certainly find a job. Only you must not go to the man who tells you this, for he has no job to offer and doesn't know anyone who knows of a vacancy. This is exactly the reason why he gives you such generous advice, out of brotherly love, and to demonstrate how little he knows the world.”
― B. Traven, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

“No use to preach to the working-man courtesy & politeness when at the same time the working-man is not given working conditions under which he can stay polite and soft-mannered.”
― B. Traven

“A trip to a Central American jungle to watch how Indians behave near a bridge won't make you see either the jungle or the bridge or the Indians if you believe that the civilization you were born into is the only one that counts. Go and look around with the idea that everything you learned in school and college is wrong.”
― B. Traven, The Bridge in the Jungle

“Morals are taught & preached not for the sake of heaven, but to assist those people on earth who have everything they need & more to retain their possessions & to help them to accumulate still more. Morals is the butter for those who have no bread.”
― B. Traven

“The creative person should have no other biography than his works.”
― B. Traven

“it would have been a rare thing anyhow for an official to come upon an idea that is not provided for in the regulations.”
― B. Traven, The Death Ship

“ordinary people can never fall over the walls, because they never dare climb high enough to see what is beyond the walls.”
― B. Traven, The Death Ship

“The prison was very important - as everywhere on earth. Everywhere the building of a prison is the first step in the organization of a civilized state.”
― B. Traven

“don't ever believe that kings were done with when the fathers of the country made a revolution.”
― B. Traven, The Death Ship

“If you wish to survive, you have to win the battle.”
― B. Traven

“There is no getting used to pain and suffering. You become only hard-boiled, and you lose a certain capacity to be impressed by feelings. Yet no human being will ever become used to sufferings to such an extent that his heart will cease to cry out that eternal prayer of all human beings: “I hope that my Liberator comes!” He is the master of the world, he who can make his coins out of the hope of slaves.”
― B. Traven, The Death Ship

“It isn't the gold that changes man, it is the power which gold gives to man that changes the soul of man. This power, though, is only imaginary. If not recognized by other men, it does not exist.”
― B. Traven, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

“The air bit into your lungs because it was filled with poisonous gas escaping from the refineries. That sting in the air which made breathing so hard and unpleasant and choked your throat constantly meant that people were making money- much money.”
― B. Traven, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

“The class I belong to always has to wait and wait, stand long nights and days in long files to get a cup of coffee and a slice of bread. Everybody in the world, official or boss, takes it for granted that our sort of people have ages, of time to waste. It is different with those who have money. They can arrange everything with money. Therefore they never have to wait. We who cannot pay with cold cash have to pay with our time instead.”
― B. Traven, The Death Ship

“Do not ask questions! The only real defense civilized man has against
anybody who bothers him is to lie. There would be no lies if there were no questions.”
― B. Traven , The Death Ship

“That which was tortured yesterday is the powerful church today and a religion in decay tomorrow. The deplorable thing, the most deplorable thing, is that the people who were tortured yesterday, torture today.”
― B. Traven, The Death Ship

“-¿Por qué esperar al Salvador? Sálvate tú mismo, hermano, y entonces tu salvador habrá llegado.”
― B. Traven, The Rebellion of the Hanged

“Badges? We ain't got no badges. We don't need no badges. I don't have to show you any stinking badges!”
― B. Traven, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

“Tengo que hacer esas canastitas a mi manera, con canciones y trocitos de mi propia alma. Si me veo obligado a hacerlas por millares, no podré tener un pedazo del alma en cada una, ni podré poner en ellas mis canciones. Resultarían todas iguales, y eso acabaría por devorarme el corazón pedazo por pedazo. Cada una de ellas debe encerrar un trozo distinto, un cantar único de los que escucho al amanecer, cuando los pájaros comienzan a gorjear y las mariposas vienen a posarse en mis canastitas y a enseñarme los lindos colores de sus alitas para que yo me inspire. Y ellas se acercan porque gustan también de los bellos tonos que mis canastitas lucen.”
― B. Traven, Canasta de cuentos mexicanos

“Badges, to god-damned hell with badges! We have no badges. In fact, we don’t need badges. I don’t have to show you any stinking badges, you god-damned cabrón and ching’ tu madre! Come out there from that shit-hole of yours. I have to speak to you.”
― B. Traven, THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE

“i wonder what goes on night and day beneath the surface of a cemetery.”
― B. Traven, The Death Ship

“The Chief seemed not to care much about my opinion; he wanted to talk and so I let him continue. The greatest pleasure one can give people is to let them talk all they want. One is respected much more if one lets people talk instead of talking himself. No one has the least interest in hearing somebody else’s opinion. ("Midnight Call")”
― B. Traven, The Night Visitor and Other Stories

“Si un pobre hombre o una pobre mujer no podían ofrecerle sino sólo unos cuantos centavos, o un puerquito, o un gallo, gozaban exactamente de la misma atención que los ricos, a quienes en ocasiones había llegado a cobrar hasta veinte mil doblones de oro.”
― B. Traven, Macario

“It is always more convenient to dream of what might be.”
― B. Traven, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

“Your mother will die some day, and you and I will have to die some day, too. Yet My God has never died. Perhaps you haven’t heard clearly the story that tells how He goes on living for ever and ever. In appearance only did He die. But three days after He had died He came to life again and with great pomp He rose up to heaven.”
“How often?” the chief asked in a dry tone.
Astonished at this unexpected question, the monk answered, “Why . . . why . . . eh . . . once only, quite naturally once only.”
“Once only? And has he, your great god, ever returned to earth?”
“No, of course not,” Padre Balmojado answered, his voice burdened with irritation. “He has not returned yet, but He has promised mankind that He will return to earth in His own good time, so as to judge and to . . .”
“. . . and to condemn poor mankind,” the chief finished the sentence.
“Yes, and to condemn!” the monk said in a loud and threatening tone. Confronted with such inhuman stubbornness he lost control of himself. Louder still he continued: “Yes, to judge and to condemn all those who deny Him and refuse to believe in Him, and who criticize His sacred words, and who ignore Him, and who maliciously refuse to accept the true and only God even if He is brought to them with brotherly love
and a heart overflowing with compassion for the poor ignorant brethren living in sin and utter darkness, and who can obtain salvation for nothing more than having belief in Him and having the true faith.”
Not in the least was the chieftain affected by this sudden outburst of the monk, who had been thrown off routine by these true sons of America who had learned to think long and carefully before speaking.
The chieftain remained very calm and serene. With a quiet, soft voice he said: “Here, my holy white father, is what our god had put into our hearts and souls, and it will be the last word I have to say to you before we return to our beautiful and tranquil tierra: Our god dies every evening for us who are his children. He dies every evening to bring us cool winds and freshness of nature, to bring us peace and quiet for the night so that we may rest well, man and animal. Our god dies every evening in a deep golden glory, not insulted, not spat upon, not spattered with stinking mud. He dies beautifully and glori¬ously, as every real god will die. Yet he does not die forever. In the morning he returns to life, refreshed and more beautiful than ever, his body still trailing the veils and wrappings of the dead. But soon his golden spears dart across the blue firmament as a sign that he is ready to fight the gods of darkness who threaten the peoples on earth. And before you have time to realize what happens, there he stands before wondering human eyes, and there he stays, great, mighty, powerful, golden, and in ever-growing beauty, dominating the universe.
“He, our god, is a spendthrift in light, warmth, beauty, and fertility, enriching the flowers with perfumes and colors, teaching the birds to sing, filling the corn with strength and health, playing with the clouds in an ocean of gold and blue. As my beloved mother does, so does he give and give and never cease giving; never does he ask for prayers, not expect¬ing adoration or worship, not commanding obedience or faith, and never, never condemning anybody or thing on earth. And when evening comes, again he passes away in beauty and glory, a smile all over his face, and with his last glimmer blesses his Indian children. Again the next morning he is the eternal giver; he is the eternally young, the eternally beautiful, the eternally new-born, the ever and ever returning great and golden god of the Indians.
“And this is what our god has put into our hearts and souls and what I am bound to tell you, holy white father: ‘Do not, not ever, beloved Indian sons of these your beautiful lands, give away your own great god for any other god.’ ” ("Conversion Of Some Indians")”
― B. Traven, The Night Visitor and Other Stories

“During my early youth I carried all my earthly goods in my pants and coat pockets, that is when I had a coat, because I had to be ready to travel at any hour no matter where I happened to be, mostly on account of merciless truant officers. Since then, having become in the meantime well-to-do, I carried all my earthly riches in that shaky cardboard box. It makes you wonderfully independent.

Even had these good men not asked for it, even had they not so highly solicited my medical knowledge, I would still have taken the medicine box along with me. This I did entirely instinctively and out of long and often very bitter experience. For it had often happened to me in the past that, when I thought of leaving my residence for only one hour, upon regaining full consciousness I discovered that I had landed on a different continent. Through such experiences one learns to become careful, so that toothbrush, shaving kit and a little pocket compass were constantly buttoned up inside my back pants pocket. How would I know where I might land if I flew away with these three nightbirds? ("Midnight Call")”
― B. Traven, The Night Visitor and Other Stories

“vio un par de pies frente a sí. Calzaban”
― B. Traven, Macario

“Macario nunca pegaba a su mujer.”
― B. Traven, Macario

“Anyone who is willing to work and is serious about it will certainly find a job. Only you must not go to the man who tells you this, for he has no job to offer and doesn’t know anyone who knows of a vacancy. This is exactly the reason why he gives you such generous advice, out of brotherly love, and to demonstrate how little he knows the world. Dobbs”
― B. Traven, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

“La suya era una de las familias más pobres del pueblo, una de las más apreciadas por su honestidad y su modestia y además porque siempre son más queridas las familias pobres que las ricas.”
― B. Traven, Macario