Romain Rolland citations

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Romain Rolland

Date de naissance: 29. janvier 1866
Date de décès: 30. décembre 1944

Romain Rolland, né à Clamecy le 29 janvier 1866 et mort à Vézelay le 30 décembre 1944, est un écrivain français, lauréat du prix Nobel de littérature de 1915.

D’une culture forgée par la passion de l’art et de la musique et le culte des héros, il chercha sa vie durant un moyen de communion entre les hommes. Son exigence de justice le poussa à souhaiter la paix « au-dessus de la mêlée » pendant et après la Première Guerre mondiale. Il est animé par un idéal humaniste et la quête d’un monde non violent, par son admiration pour Léon Tolstoï, grande figure de la non-violence, par les philosophies de l’Inde , l’enseignement de Râmakrishna et Vivekananda, par sa fascination pour ʿAbd-al-Bahāʾ , puis par le « monde nouveau » qu'il espérait voir se construire en Union soviétique.

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Œuvres

La Vie de Tolstoï
Romain Rolland
Clérambault
Clérambault
Romain Rolland

„Créer, c'est tuer la mort.“

—  Romain Rolland

Jean-Christophe, 1904-1912

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„Ce n'est pas la paix que je cherche, c'est la vie.“

—  Romain Rolland

Jean-Christophe (1904 - 1912), Journey's End: The Burning Bush (1911)

„The slaughter accomplished by man is so small a thing of itself in the carnage of the universe!“

—  Romain Rolland

Jean-Christophe (1904 - 1912), Journey's End: The Burning Bush (1911)
Contexte: The slaughter accomplished by man is so small a thing of itself in the carnage of the universe! The animals devour each other. The peaceful plants, the silent trees, are ferocious beasts one to another. The serenity of the forests is only a commonplace of easy rhetoric for the literary men who only know Nature through their books!... In the forest hard by, a few yards away from the house, there were frightful struggles always toward. The murderous beeches flung themselves upon the pines with their lovely pinkish stems, hemmed in their slenderness with antique columns, and stifled them. They rushed down upon the oaks and smashed them, and made themselves crutches of them. The beeches were like Briareus with his hundred arms, ten trees in one tree! They dealt death all about them. And when, failing foes, they came together, they became entangled, piercing, cleaving, twining round each other like antediluvian monsters. Lower down, in the forest, the acacias had left the outskirts and plunged into the thick of it and, attacked the pinewoods, strangling and tearing up the roots of their foes, poisoning them with their secretions. It was a struggle to the death in which the victors at once took possession of the room and the spoils of the vanquished. Then the smaller monsters would finish the work of the great. Fungi, growing between the roots, would suck at the sick tree, and gradually empty it of its vitality. Black ants would grind exceeding small the rotting wood. Millions of invisible insects were gnawing, boring, reducing to dust what had once been life.... And the silence of the struggle!... Oh! the peace of Nature, the tragic mask that covers the sorrowful and cruel face of Life!

„Be reverent before the dawning day. Do not think of what will be in a year, or in ten years. Think of to-day.“

—  Romain Rolland, livre Juan Criistobal

Gottfried to Jean-Christophe. Part 3: Ada
Jean-Christophe (1904 - 1912), Youth (1904)
Source: Jean Christophe Vol I
Contexte: Be reverent before the dawning day. Do not think of what will be in a year, or in ten years. Think of to-day. Leave your theories. All theories, you see, even those of virtue, are bad, foolish, mischievous. Do not abuse life. Live in to-day. Be reverent towards each day.
Contexte: Be reverent before the dawning day. Do not think of what will be in a year, or in ten years. Think of to-day. Leave your theories. All theories, you see, even those of virtue, are bad, foolish, mischievous. Do not abuse life. Live in to-day. Be reverent towards each day. Love it, respect it, do not sully it, do not hinder it from coming to flower. Love it even when it is gray and sad like to-day. Do not be anxious. See. It is winter now. Everything is asleep. The good earth will awake again. You have only to be good and patient like the earth. Be reverent. Wait. If you are good, all will go well. If you are not, if you are weak, if you do not succeed, well, you must be happy in that. No doubt it is the best you can do. So, then, why will? Why be angry because of what you cannot do? We all have to do what we can.... Als ich kann.

„Christophe returned to the Divine conflict.“

—  Romain Rolland

Jean-Christophe (1904 - 1912), Journey's End: The Burning Bush (1911)
Contexte: Christophe returned to the Divine conflict.... How his own fight, how all the conflicts of men were lost in that gigantic battle, wherein the suns rain down like flakes of snow tossing on the wind!... He had laid bare his soul. And, just as in those dreams in which one hovers in space, he felt that he was soaring above himself, he saw himself from above, in the general plan of the world; and the meaning of his efforts — the price of his suffering, were revealed to him at a glance. His struggles were a part of the great fight of the worlds. His overthrow was a momentary episode, immediately repaired. Just as he fought for all, so all fought for him. They shared his trials, he shared their glory.
"Companions, enemies, walk over me, crush me, let me feel the cannons which shall win victory pass over my body! I do not think of the iron which cuts deep into my flesh, I do not think of the foot that tramples down my head, I think of my Avenger, the Master, the Leader of the countless army. My blood shall cement the victory of the future...."

„Theatre supposes lives that are poor and agitated, a people searching in dreams for a refuge from thought.“

—  Romain Rolland

Le Théâtre du peuple (1903)
Contexte: Theatre supposes lives that are poor and agitated, a people searching in dreams for a refuge from thought. If we were happier and freer we should not feel hungry for theatre.... A people that is happy and free has need of festivities more than of theatres; it will always see in itself the finest spectacle.

„No one ever reads a book. He reads himself through books, either to discover or to control himself.“

—  Romain Rolland

Source: Journey Within (1947), Ch. 2 : The Three Revelations
Contexte: No one ever reads a book. He reads himself through books, either to discover or to control himself. And the most objective books are the most deceptive. The greatest book is not the one whose message engraves itself on the brain, as a telegraphic message engraves itself on the ticker-tape, but the one whose vital impact opens up other viewpoints, and from writer to reader spreads the fire that is fed by the various essences, until it becomes a vast conflagration leaping from forest to forest.

„God was not to him the impassive Creator, a Nero from his tower of brass watching the burning of the City to which he himself has set fire. God was fighting. God was suffering. Fighting and suffering with all who fight and for all who suffer. For God was Life, the drop of light fallen into the darkness, spreading out, reaching out, drinking up the night.“

—  Romain Rolland

Jean-Christophe (1904 - 1912), Journey's End: The Burning Bush (1911)
Contexte: God was not to him the impassive Creator, a Nero from his tower of brass watching the burning of the City to which he himself has set fire. God was fighting. God was suffering. Fighting and suffering with all who fight and for all who suffer. For God was Life, the drop of light fallen into the darkness, spreading out, reaching out, drinking up the night. But the night is limitless, and the Divine struggle will never cease: and none can know how it will end. It was a heroic symphony wherein the very discords clashed together and mingled and grew into a serene whole! Just as the beech-forest in silence furiously wages war, so Life carries war into the eternal peace.
The wars and the peace rang echoing through Christophe. He was like a shell wherein the ocean roars. Epic shouts passed, and trumpet calls, and tempestuous sounds borne upon sovereign rhythms. For in that sonorous soul everything took shape in sound. It sang of light. It sang of darkness, sang of life and death. It sang for those who were victorious in battle. It sang for himself who was conquered and laid low. It sang. All was song. It was nothing but song.

„Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetuer adipiscing elit. Etiam egestas wisi a erat. Morbi imperdiet, mauris ac auctor dictum.“

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