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A wise man once said that next to losing its mother, there is nothing more healthy for a child than to lose its father.
Halldór Laxness
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Halldór Laxness
Age: 85 †
Born: 1902
Born: April 23
Died: 1988
Died: February 8
Linguist
Novelist
Philosopher
Playwright
Poet
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Writer
Reykjavíkurborg
Halldór Kiljan Laxness
Halldor Laxness
Halldor Kiljan Laxness
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More quotes by Halldór Laxness
The tyranny of mankind it was like the obstinate drip of water falling on a stone and hollowing it little by little and this drip continued, falling obstinately, falling without pause on the souls of the children.
Halldór Laxness
Icelanders are grateful to meet foreigners who have heard of their country. And even more grateful to hear someone say it deserves better.
Halldór Laxness
Whoever doesn't live in poetry cannot survive here on earth.
Halldór Laxness
What you have stolen can never be yours.
Halldór Laxness
No one is so busy that he hasn't the time to dismantle a work of art.
Halldór Laxness
You have fettered yourself of your own free will, man - break the fetters!
Halldór Laxness
A free man can live on fish.Independence is better than meat
Halldór Laxness
When a man has a flower in his life he builds a house.
Halldór Laxness
Human beings, in point of fact, are lonely by nature, and one should feel sorry for them and love them and mourn with them. It is certain that people would understand one another better and love one another more if they would admit to one another how lonely they were, how sad they were in their tormented, anxious longings and feeble hopes.
Halldór Laxness
Of all the creatures that man kills for his amusement there is only one that he kills out of hatred—other men. Man hates nothing as much as himself. That is why war is called the leprosy of the human soul.
Halldór Laxness
Remember, any lie you are told, even deliberately, is often a more significant fact than a truth told in all sincerity.
Halldór Laxness
One boy's footprints are not long in being lost in the snow, in the steadily falling snow of the shortest day, the longest night they are lost as soon as they are made. And once again the heath is clothed in drifting white. And there is no ghost, save the one ghost that lives in the heart of a motherless boy, till his footprints disappear.
Halldór Laxness