Henrik Ibsen Quotes

Norwegian playwright and theatre director (1828–1906)

Add quote

Henrik Johan Ibsen (20 March 1828 – 23 May 1906) was a Norwegian playwright, theatre director, and poet. He is often referred to as "the father of realism" and is considered one of the founders of Modernism in theatre.

Bio from: Wikiquote (CC BY-SA 4.0)

Pen Names: Brynjolf Bjarme

Birth Name: Henrik Johan Ibsen

Alternative Names: Henrich Johan Ibsen • Henrich Ibsen

From Wikidata (CC0)

Showing quotes in randomized order to avoid selection bias. Click Popular for most popular quotes.

The common people are nothing more than the raw material of which a People is made.

A thousand words can't
make the mark a single deed will leave.

Money may be the husk of many things but not the kernel. It brings you food, but not appetite; medicine, but not health; acquaintance, but not friends; servants, but not loyalty; days of joy, but not peace or happiness.

I have other duties equally sacred … Duties to myself.

Always do that, wild ducks do. They shoot to the bottom as deep as they can get, sir — and bite themselves fast in the tangle and seaweed — and all the devil's own mess that grows down there. And they never come up again.

I could not endure life without work. All my life, as
long as I can remember, I have worked, and it has been my greatest
and only pleasure. But now I am quite alone in the world — my life
is so dreadfully empty and I feel so forsaken. There is not the
least pleasure in working for one's self. Nils, give me someone and
something to work for.

Happiness is worth a daring deed; we are both free if we but will it, and then the game is won.

Dr. Stockmann: Yes, I can afford it now. Katherine tells me I earn almost as much as we spend.
Peter Stockmann: Almost — yes!

En skulde aldrig ha’ sine bedste buxer på, når en er ude og strider for frihed og sandhed.

I've the most extraordinary longing to say 'Bloody Hell'!

"But no man would sacrifice his honor for the one he loves."

"It is a thing hundreds of thousands of women have done."

He last, late guest
To the gate we followed;
Goodbye – and the rest
The night-wind swallowed.

House, garden, street,
Lay tenfold gloomy,
Where accents sweet
Had made music to me.

It was but a feast
With the dark coming on;
She was but a guest –
And now, she is gone.

A party is like a sausage machine, it grinds up all sorts of heads together into the same baloney ...

Ja, tænke det; ønske det; ville det med;
men gjøre det! Nej, det skjønner jeg ikke!

The individual ought undoubtedly to acquiesce in subordinating himself to the community — or, to speak more accurately, to the authorities who have the care of the community’s welfare.