The Wars Quotes

“Rodwell wandered into No Man's Land and put a bullet through his ears. On Sunday, Robert sat on his bed in the old hotel at Bailleul and read what Rodwell had written.

To my daughter, Laurine;
Love your mother.
Make your prayers against despair.
I am alive in everything I touch. Touch these pages and you have me in your fingertips. We survive in one another. Everything lives forever. Believe it. Nothing dies.
I am your father always.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“...no one belongs to anyone. We're all cut off at birth with a knife and left at the mercy of strangers. You hear that? Strangers. I know what you want to do. I know you're going to go away to be a soldier. Well-you can go to hell. I'm not responsible. I'm just another stranger. Birth I can give you-but life I cannot. I can't keep anyone alive. Not anymore.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“All of this happened a long time ago. But not so long ago that everyone who played a part in it is dead. Some can still be met in dark old rooms with nurses in attendance.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“1915. The year itself looks sepia and soiled-muddied like its pictures. In the snapshots everyone at first seems timid-lost-irresolute. Boys and men squinting at the camera.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“The mud. There are no good similes. Mud must be a Flemish word. Mud was invented here. Mudland must have been its name. The ground is the colour of steel. Over most of the plain there isn't a trace of topsoil; only sand and clay. The Belgians call them 'clyttes', these fields, and the further you go towards the sea, the worse the clyttes become. In them, the water is reached by the plough at an average depth of eighteen inches. When it rains (which is almost constantly from early September through to March, except when it snows) the water rises at you out of the ground. It rises from your footprints-and an army marching over a field can cause a flood. In 1916, it was said that you 'waded to the front'. Men and horses sank from sight. They drowned in mud. Their graves, it seemed, just dug themselves and pulled them down.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“Here was an unknown quantity-a child in breeches with a blue scarf wound around his neck whose job it was to get them out and back alive. This...was the greatest terror of war: what you didn't know of the men who told you what to do-where to go and when. What if they were mad-or stupid? What if their fear was greater than yours? Or what if they were brave and crazy-wanting and demanding bravery from you? He looked away. He thought of being born-and trusting your parents. Maybe that was the same. Your parents could be crazy too. Or stupid. Still-he'd rather his father was with him-telling him what to do. Then he smiled. He knew that his father would take one look at the crater and tell him not to go.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“أضفتُ رقمًا للذي يؤيّد الحرب. لم أكن أثق بالسلام.”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“غيّرتنا الحرب، أصبحنا لا ندري ماذا نقول، أو ماذا نريد أن نفعل. غيّرتنا الحرب، سرقتْ منّا إنساننا الصغير، ولغتنا العظيمة.”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“When Mrs Ross asked him what he was thinking of, he shrugged. But he was thinking of the time he'd climbed the steeple of a church when he was ten-and had seen, for the very first time, the world spread out around him like a gift.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“Master Stuart made his letters into paper darts and launched them page by page from the roof of the house-watching them descend and fade into the green ravine below...Some he saved to trade at school for other artifacts of war sent home by other elder brothers like his own-but only the letters mailed from France were worthy of this exchange. They had to have the smell of fire.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“Houses, trees and fields of flax once flourished here. Summers had been blue with flowers. Now it was a shallow sea of stinking grey from end to end. And this is where you fought the war.”
― Timothy Findley, The Wars

“رواية غادرتْهُ منذ زمن طويل، ولم يعد يتذكّرها إلّا في يقظته حين يلتقي رفاقه في المقهى الشمالي كل ليلة. يستمع لأشعارهم على رقع الجِلد الآدمية. يتذاكرون، عن عمدٍ، قصصهم، كي لا تشغل منامهم”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“تخيّل أنّ حربًا تدور في الخارج. حربًا يدركُ سكونها، حين تلوذ الناس بالحياة”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“توقّع أن يفجّر السكون صوتٌ ما. صوتٌ يتلو المعركة الأولى التي سقط فيها جريحًا مصابًا في ساقه. نقله رفاقه إلى هنا، وسيعودون ثانية، لينقلوه إلى مكانٍ أمين. أخرجوه من سرداب باردٍ مليء بجثث ترتجف من الخوف”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“يناير ...
والسماء تشتعل بهدير الطائرات، والجنود يعدّلون أوضاعهم، وأطفال يتعلمون صنع الكمّامات المنزلية. فحم ... ماء ...
خرقة بيضاء قد تنقذ حياتك. غرفة مغلقة النوافذ، عليها أشرطة، ويمكن الاستغناء عن النوافذ، بل من الأفضل الاستغناء عنها”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“لم يتغيّر شيء. في المبنى المجاور طوابير من الأجناس البشرية تنتظر دورها في الحصول على أقنعة الغاز.”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“يسألني صديق: متى تبدأ الحرب؟
وأجيب بسرعة: حين يُقصَف القصر الجمهوري في بغداد”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“لم تغيِّر فيّ الحرب كثيرًا. لكنّني في الحرب أحببتُها أكثر، وصدّقتُها أكثر، وتظاهرتُ بانّها لم تغيِّر فيّ شيئًا على الإطلاق”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“رأيتُ الفجرَ يموت. هل رأيتَ في حياتِكَ فجرًا يموت؟!”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش

“سقط شهيدٌ لجارتنا. توقّعتُ أن تبكي عليه، أن تتوسّل العساكر العرب أن يُبقوه لها، أن تمزّق ثيابها. كانت تزغرد في الشارع، وتشير إلى الانتفاخ المستدير في بطنها. تصرخُ: هنا ثأره، هنا ثأره. وانزوَتْ في مكانٍ بعيد حتى يأتيها المخاض”
― ناصر الظفيري, أبيض يتوحش