Reviews - Der Club der toten Dichter

964 reviews for:

Der Club der toten Dichter

N.H. Kleinbaum

3.92 AVERAGE

loleia's review against another edition

4.0

My teacher had a lot of chaotic dark academia vibes going on so thanks for making us read the book and watch the film back in high school

maygoulding's review against another edition

3.5

emotional hopeful inspiring sad slow-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Character

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Yes

Diverse cast of characters: No

Flaws of characters a main focus: Yes

abberoo77's review against another edition

3.75

emotional inspiring reflective sad medium-paced

Plot or Character Driven: Character

Strong character development: Yes

Loveable characters: Complicated

Diverse cast of characters: N/A

Flaws of characters a main focus: Complicated

The book was good but at times the writing felt more like a script so I wasn’t a fan of the writing style and I liked some of the elements that they added that were cut from the movie but a lot of it was weird and unnecessary. And some of the quotes ripped from the movie are written differently and it bothers me.

Heard you got the new boy. Hear he’s a stiff. Oops!

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, old time is still a flying: And this same flower that smiles today. Tomorrow will be dying.

No, No, No! It’s because we’re food for worms, lads!Keating shouted. “Because we’re only going to experience a limited number of springs, summers, and falls.” “one day hard as it is to believe each and every one of us is going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die!

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race and the human race is filled with passion medicine law business engineering. These are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty romance, love these are what we stay alive for.

That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute to verse.

Mr. K was a hell-raiser good for him!

The Dead Poets was a society dedicated to sucking the mirror out of life.

We didn’t simply read, we let it drip from our tongues like honey. Women swooned, spirits soared, gods were created, gentlemen.

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the mayor of life! To put to rout all that was not life, and not when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, cutting through the forest with a golden track!

I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things from a different perspective.

Radio Free America!

I’m going to act ever since I can remember I wanted to try this. I even tried to go to summer stock auditions, last year, but of course my father wouldn’t let me for the first time in my whole life. I know what I want and for the first time, I’m gonna do it whether my father wants me to or not Carpe diem!

“Listen, I appreciate your interest in me, but I’m not like you, you say things and people listen and I’m not like that.” “Don’t you think you could be?”

I feel like I’ve never been alive. For years, i’ve been risking nothing. I have no idea what I am or what I want to do.

The boys had seized the cave, and in it, they’d found a home away from Welton, away from parents, teachers, and friends a place where they could be people they never dreamed they’d be.

To indeed be a God!

Hey, everybody, I got the part! I’m going to play puck!

By all means, write about the sky or a girl’s smile, but when you do, let your poetry conjure up salvation day, doomsday, any day. I don’t care, as long as it in enlightens us, thrills usand if it’s inspired, makes us feel a bit immortal.

But there must be poetry, and we must stop to notice it in even the simplest acts of living, or we will have wasted much of what life has to offer.

Mr. Anderson believes that everything he has inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. Isn’t that right Todd?

YAWP!

I close my eyes. His image flicks beside me a sweaty toothed mad man with a stare that pounds my brain. His hands reach out and choke me. All the time he mumbles slowly. Truth is like a blanket that always leave your feet cold. Stretch it pull it. It will never cover any of us kick at it, beat it, it will never be enough. From the moment we enter crying to the moment we leave dying, it will cover just your head as you whale and cry and scream!

Laughing, crying, tumbling, mumbling gotta do more. Gotta be more. Chaos screaming, chaos dreaming, crying, flying, gotta be more! Gotta be more!

“Knox, you gotta calm down.” “No, I’ve been calm all my life! If I don’t do something it’s gonna kill me!”

Maybe they don’t think at all unless it’s about my brother!

You know what Dad called me when I was growing up? Five ninety-eight. That’s what all the chemicals in the human body would be worth if you bottled them raw and sold them. He told me that was all I’d ever be unless I worked every day to improve myself. Five ninety-eight.

Well, my parents might’ve loved my brother, but they did not love me.

There is a great need in all of us to be accepted, but you must trust what is unique or different about yourself, even if it is odd or unpopular.

Mr. Nolan, it’s for you. It’s God. He said we should have girls at Welton.

Damn it, Neil, the name’s Nuwanda.

Yes, and acting! It’s gotta be one of the most wonderful things in the world. Most people, if they’re lucky, live about half an exciting life. If I could get the parts, I could live dozens of great lives!

But he’s planned the rest of my life for me, and he’s never even asked me what I want!

“Dead Poets Honor.” “What is that” “My word.”

He’s good! He’s really good!!

“Father, that’s 10 more years. Don’t you see, that’s a lifetime.” “You have opportunities I never dreamed of! I won’t let you squander them.”

We are dreaming of tomorrow and tomorrow isn’t coming. We are dreaming of a glory that we don’t really want. We are dreaming of a new day when the new days already here. We are running from the battle when it’s one that must be fought. We are listening for the call, but never really heeding, hoping for the future when the future is only plans. Dreaming of the wisdom that we are dodging daily praying for a saviour when salvations in our hands and still we sleep and still, we pray, and still, we fear and still we sleep.

As his friends paid him homage in the cave. Neil sat alone in his darkened room at home, gazing out the window. The passion had dried up and left his body. All feeling drained from his face and limbs. He believed he was a brittle empty shell that would soon be crushed by the weight of the falling snow.

“Todd, Neil’s dead.”

Someone has to know it was his father! Neil wouldn’t kill himself! He loved living!

Oh Captain! My Captain!

blackb3rries's review against another edition

5.0

„We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute.We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race.And the human race is filled with passion.”