“And I am thinking about how each return to Berlin made my heart beat faster. How blessed I felt as a child when after four weeks of holidays I finally saw from the train the tall buildings of Berlin’s East, the tenements. Yes, the grey tenements of my hometown, Berlin.
Or when, as a grown-up man, I had to keep my lips from trembling each time I came back from foreign lands after long months of absence. How tears rolled down my face when in December 1918 – having fled the bloody killing, that whole misery and chaos – I returned from France and saw the first houses of Berlin, at night, by moonlight.“From the introduction to Adolf Heilborn’s 1925 book Die Reise nach Berlin, first published in 1921 as a series of articles for the local newspaper, the “Berliner Morgenpost”. (Translation own)
“One morning you can smell autumn. It is not yet chilly; it is not windy; in fact, nothing has changed – and yet everything has. It spreads in the air like a crackle – something has happened: until now the dice held its balance, it swayed…, and… and…, and now it has rolled onto the other side. All is as it was the day before: the leaves, the trees, the bushes… and still, now everything’s different. The light is bright, gossamer threads of spider silk are floating in the air, everything has been given a new start, magic is gone, the spell has been broken – it is straight autumn from now on. How many of those have you seen? This one is one of them. The wonder lasted some four, perhaps five days, and you wished it would never ever stop. This is the time when old gentlemen get sentimental – it’s not “the last of the summer wine”, it is something else. It is an optimistic premonition of Death, a cheerful acceptance of the End. Late summer, early autumn and what lies between them. A fleeting moment in each year.”
First published by Kurt Tucholsky (as Kaspar Hauser) in “Die Weltbühne” magazine in October 1929.
“The title ‘Berliner’ had nothing to do with geography. It was an honour granted for loyal service. Some got it even before they reached Berlin’s soil, others not after a whole lifetime spent idly on imperial asphalt. For Berlin “being there” and “BEING there” were not the same thing. The former, the mere ‘being’, meant nothing. No more than a word in your passport copied onto a hotel registration card.
Egon Jameson “Mein Lachendes Spree-Athen” (own translation)
“Berliners are unfriendly and inconsiderate, gruff and self-opinionated. Berlin is repugnant, loud, filthy and grey; construction sites and traffic jams wherever you walk or stand – yet I feel sorry for anyone who cannot live here!”
Anneliese Bödecker, social campaigner and generous supporter of many social causes; recipient of the 1999 Order of Merit of Berlin (the highest award granted by the Land of Berlin to no more than 400 living persons simultaneously).