We´re two, two for everything, for love, life, for a fight and pain, for hours of happiness. Two for wins and losses, for life and for death - TWO! - Karel Čapek

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We´re two, two for everything, for love, life, for a fight and pain, for hours of happiness. Two for wins and losses, for life and for death - TWO!

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About Karel Čapek

Karel Čapek (January 9, 1890 – December 25, 1938) was a Czech author and playwright, who introduced and made popular the word robot as a word for artificial human beings, which first appeared in his play R.U.R. (Rossum's Universal Robots) in 1920.

Biography information from Wikiquote

Also Known As

Alternative Names: Karel Capek
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Additional quotes by Karel Čapek

" — Това е то днешното възпитание — провъзгласи старият Янечек. — А като река понякога да кажа нещо на сина, той ще ми отвърне: "Ти не ги разбираш тия работи, тате, днес е друго време, друга епоха" — то дори и за костените оръжия не можело да се каже, че били последна дума. „Един ден, казва, хората ще измислят още по-инакъв материал…“ Ето това, знаеш ли, вече е прекалено: като че ли някога някой е виждал друг, по-здрав материал от камъка, дървото и кокала! Сега вече и ти самата, която си една глупава жена, трябва да признаеш, че... че... че това минава границите на всичко!"

You have to kill and rule if you want to be like people. Read history! Read people’s books! You have to conquer and murder if you want to be people!

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So it was that Mister Povondra started his collection of newspaper cuttings about the newts. Without his passion as a collector much of the material we now have would otherwise have been lost. He cut out and saved everything written about the newts that he could find; it should even be said that after some initial fumblings he learned to plunder the newspapers in his favourite café wherever there was mention of the newts and even developed an unusual, almost magical, virtuosity in tearing the appropriate article out of the paper and putting it in his pocket right under the nose of the head waiter. It is well known that all collectors are willing to steal and murder if that is what's needed to add a certain item to their collection, but that is not in any way a stain on their moral character. His life was now the life of a collector, and that gave it meaning. Evening after evening he would count and arrange his cuttings under the indulgent eyes of Mrs. Povondra who knew that every man is partly mad and partly a little child; it was better for him to play with his cuttings than to go out drinking and playing cards. She even made some space in the scullery for all the boxes he had made himself for his collection; could anything more be asked of a wife?

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