1927. I stood in front of your grave; in radiating sunshine there was a still, green mound. And it was preaching about mortality. My answer was: resu… - Joseph Goebbels

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1927. I stood in front of your grave; in radiating sunshine there was a still, green mound. And it was preaching about mortality. My answer was: resurrection.

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About Joseph Goebbels

Paul Joseph Goebbels (29 October 1897 – 1 May 1945) was Adolf Hitler's Propaganda Minister in Nazi Germany. was a German Nazi politician and Reich Minister of Propaganda of Nazi German from 1933 to 1945. He was one of Adolf Hitler's closest and most devoted associates, and was known for his skills in public speaking and his deeply virulent antisemitism, which was evident in his publicly voiced views. He advocated progressively harsher discrimination, including the extermination of the Jews in the Holocaust.

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Also Known As

Also Known As: The Poison Dwarf
Alternative Names: Paul Joseph Goebbels Goebbels PJG
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Additional quotes by Joseph Goebbels

How deeply the perverse Jewish spirit has penetrated German cultural life is shown in the frightening and horrifying forms of the Exhibition Of Degenerate Art in München ….. This has nothing at all to do with the suppression of artistic freedom and modem progress. On the contrary, the botched art works which were exhibited there and their creators are of yesterday and before yesterday. They are the senile representatives, no longer to be taken seriously, of a period that we have intellectually and politically overcome and whose monstrous, degenerate creations still haunt the field of the plastic arts in our time.”

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Grau ist die Stadt und elend. Die Häuser verrußt, die Menschen ernst und wortkarg. Schwarze Massen wälzen sich durch die Straßen; schmale, bleiche Gesichter über gebeugte Nacken. Kinder sitzen an den Straßenecken und betteln. Vor den Läden stehen Frauen mit alten, grauen Gesichtern. Es wird Abend. Die Bogenlampen flammen auf. Licht über Elend und Schmutz. Das Herz krampft sich mir zusammen. Durch schmale, enge Gassen schlurfen Dirnen und Zuhälter. Da brennen rote Lichter. Es ist, als schlüge der Abend schwarze Flügel über die Stadt. Reichtum und Elend wohnen hier nebeneinander. Man möchte weinen.

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