Poland Quotes

“a soldier lives always for the next battle, because he knows that before it arrives impossible changes can occur in his favor.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“[Very rich people] with brains make a great effort to hold on to every penny they have while preaching to the general population that freedom and dignity and patriotism are possible only under their protection; in this way they elicit the support of the very people they hold in subjection.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Rampaging horsemen can conquer; only the city can civilize.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“She well remembered the terror she felt when seeing for the first time names like Przemysl and Rzeszow, and how she had turned to Wiktor for help. “Look at this,” she said petulantly, pointing to Przemysl. “How in the world do you pronounce it?” “Quite simple,” he said, repeating it several times. “Shemish.” “Now wait! You can’t tell me that with all those letters, it comes out Shemish.” “It does. You can hear for yourself. Shemish.” “What happens to the P at the beginning and the L at the end?” “In strict accuracy, it ought to be P’shemish’l, and if you listen with extra attention you may hear the muffled P and the final L. But mostly we just say Shemish.” He broke into laughter, and Marjorie thought he was ridiculing her. Not at all: “I was remembering how much trouble it gives the Austrian officers who speak only German. They go home to their families and announce proudly, ‘I’ve been appointed lieutenant commander of our big base at Przemysl,’ and however he pronounces it, that first time becomes the accepted name in that man’s family. Shemish he never says.” He laughed again. “How would you say it, Marjo?” “Per-zem-y-sil,” she said firmly, “just as God intended it to be pronounced.” “Never try to reason things out in Poland,” he said reassuringly. “Just accept it as Shemish,” but she resolved to avoid the word whenever possible.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Reported the papal legate: “The concept of liberum veto must have been devised in hell by a special devil charged with the task of destroying Christian Poland.” In”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“the history of a daughter is a drama in three acts. One: from age three to nineteen you will kill any man who touches her. Two: from age twenty to twenty-five you hope that one at least of the young men nosing around will prove satisfactory. Three: from age twenty-six on you pray that any man at all, even a train robber, will take her off your hands. Marjorie is twenty-three and my husband no longer dreams of a perfect husband. Just an acceptable one.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Jan had never seen a really sumptuous establishment like Lancut, but he had worked often at Castle Gorka and could see the vast difference between how a count lived, with his fifty horses and forty servants, and how his peasants lived, with meat once a year, a new suit of clothes once every ten years, little medicine and less education.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Very rich people—in all nations—can be divided into two categories; those with brains and those without. Those with brains make a great effort to hold on to every penny they have while preaching to the general population that freedom and dignity and patriotism are possible only under their protection; in this way they elicit the support of the very people they hold in subjection. The magnates of Poland used this tactic brilliantly, preaching loudly: “The most insignificant member of the gentry with one horse and sword is the equal of the most powerful magnate in his castle,” while at the same time depriving landless gentry of almost all rights and treating them with contempt.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“it”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“inferentially,”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Singapore 92.6; Taiwan 89.7; Korea 83.3; Japan 82.1; West Germany 78.8; France 72.7; United States 70.3; Great Britain 40.4; Poland 33.3; Zaire 29.6; Chad 19.9. I have the others, but that’s a sampling.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“university of rural Poland with its two colleges: the farm soil and the kitchen argument.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“To justify becoming a nation, the land and the people must have produced an unifying culture. By culture I do not mean folklore, cooking patterns and nationalistic myths. I mean music which all respond to. I mean architecture which constructs buildings of spatial and utilitarian importance. I mean conscious poetry, not doggerel. I mean great novels which generate and define a people's aspirations. And above all, I mean a creation of philosophy which will underlie all acts passed by your parliaments, all utterances made by your teachers and professors. The accumulation of such culture requires time and dedication of men and women who know what they're doing.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“When Wiktor asked how Miss Trilling had acquired so much knowledge of music, she resumed an earlier explanation which had been interrupted: “I attended a distinguished college in America, Oberlin, where music was important.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“And all were told repeatedly: “If the magnate is left free to accumulate his great wealth, you can be sure that some of it will sift down to you.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“The magnates of Poland used this tactic brilliantly, preaching loudly: “The most insignificant member of the gentry with one horse and sword is the equal of the most powerful magnate in his castle,” while at the same time depriving landless gentry of almost all rights and treating them with contempt. The peasant was kept happy by being assured that it was the magnate who defended Christianity. The townsman, who was allowed no rights whatever, was reminded: “It is the magnate who protects your freedom and your shop.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Look for yourself. The L is pronounced W, the A isn’t like your A, sort of an I, which makes a Wine. Our C is really a TZ. And we give the final T a kind of Th sound. So it comes out Wine-tzooth.” She stared at her two maps, each of which clearly showed Lancut as the site of the palace; the word even carried a minute drawing of battlements to prove the point, but now she knew the name was really Winetzooth. Looking up, she had said: “I’m so glad you’ve proved you love me, Wiktor.” She had slammed the books shut. “Because otherwise I’d think you were trying to drive me crazy.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“But where you point…it’s Lancut.” For a long, perplexed moment Wiktor had looked at the map, then at his intended bride, and it was as if someone had lit a light in his face. “Darling, this is Winesooth.” “Are you teasing me?” “No!” he said emphatically, pointing to the letters Lancut. “That’s Winesooth. That’s how we pronounce it.” “Oh, Wiktor!”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Where is Winesooth?” she had asked Wiktor, and he had said rather sharply: “On the map, where else?” “But where on the map? Clearly, it’s not on mine.” “It’s got to be,” he snapped, grabbing the map from her, then jabbing at it with his finger. “Right there, where it should be.” “But that says Lancut,” she protested, and when Wiktor looked again at the map he repeated: “It’s right here, where I said.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Where is Winesooth?” she had asked Wiktor, and he had said rather sharply: “On the map, where else?” “But where on the map? Clearly, it’s not on mine.” “It’s got to be,” he snapped, grabbing the map from her, then jabbing at it with his finger. “Right there, where it should be.” “But that says Lancut,” she protested, and when Wiktor looked again at the map he repeated: “It’s right here, where I said.” “But where you point…it’s Lancut.” For a long, perplexed moment Wiktor had looked at the map, then at his intended bride, and it was as if someone had lit a light in his face. “Darling, this is Winesooth.” “Are you teasing me?” “No!” he said emphatically, pointing to the letters Lancut. “That’s Winesooth. That’s how we pronounce it.” “Oh, Wiktor!” “Look for yourself. The L is pronounced W, the A isn’t like your A, sort of an I, which makes a Wine. Our C is really a TZ. And we give the final T a kind of Th sound. So it comes out Wine-tzooth.” She stared at her two maps, each of which clearly showed Lancut as the site of the palace; the word even carried a minute drawing of battlements to prove the point, but now she knew the name was really Winetzooth. Looking up, she had said: “I’m so glad you’ve proved you love me, Wiktor.” She had slammed the books shut. “Because otherwise I’d think you were trying to drive me crazy.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Where is Winesooth?” she had asked Wiktor, and he had said rather sharply: “On the map, where else?” “But where on the map? Clearly, it’s not on mine.” “It’s got to be,” he snapped, grabbing the map from her, then jabbing at it with his finger. “Right there, where it should be.” “But that says Lancut,” she protested, and when Wiktor looked again at the map he repeated: “It’s right here, where I said.” “But where you point…it’s Lancut.” For a long, perplexed moment Wiktor had looked at the map, then at his intended bride, and it was as if someone had lit a light in his face. “Darling, this is Winesooth.” “Are you teasing me?” “No!” he said emphatically, pointing to the letters Lancut. “That’s Winesooth. That’s how we pronounce it.” “Oh, Wiktor!” “Look for yourself. The L is pronounced W, the A isn’t like your A, sort of an I, which makes a Wine. Our C is really a TZ. And we give the final T a kind of Th sound. So it comes out Wine-tzooth.” She stared at her two maps, each of which clearly showed Lancut as the site of the palace; the word even carried a minute drawing of battlements to prove the point, but now she knew the name was really Winetzooth. Looking up, she had said: “I’m so glad you’ve proved you love me, Wiktor.” She had slammed the books shut. “Because otherwise I’d think you were trying to drive me crazy.” When it seemed that she would never master this difficult language, she had faced two alternatives: she could surrender in despair or she could laugh at herself and try anew.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“Leonid Brezhnev needed a haircut, so he went down to the ground floor of the Kremlin and plopped into the chair. It was understood that at such times the barber was to say not a word, just cut hair. But this morning, after a few snips, he said: ‘Comrade Brezhnev, what are you going to do about Poland?’ No reply. Some minutes later: ‘Comrade Brezhnev, what about Poland?’ Again no reply. Then, pretty soon: ‘Comrade Brezhnev, you’ve got to do something about Poland.’ “At this Brezhnev jumps out of the chair and tears away the cloth: ‘What’s all this about Poland?’ and the barber says: ‘It makes my job so much easier,’ and Brezhnev screams: ‘What do you mean?’ and the barber says: ‘Every time I mention Poland your hair stands straight up on end.’ ”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“to”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“The count says we’re Austrians now. But the countess tells me on the sly: ‘You’re Polish and always will be.’ I asked her if she was Polish too, and she said: ‘Forever.’ ” Tytus led his son to a window, and as if to lend emphasis to what he was about to say, pointed toward the river: “As long as the Vistula flows, it waters the soul of Poland.”
― James A. Michener, Poland

“In this prudent way every portion of the Castle Gorka hogs was utilized: the good cuts for the banquet, the tougher ones in Pani Danusia’s pierogi, the haslet in Anulka’s kielbasa. This good husbandry was symbolic of the rational way in which Poland had organized itself in the year 1646, when magnates, gentry and peasants were about as happy as they had ever been.”
― James A. Michener, Poland