impr(quotes): add English quotes (@Flatbread231) (monkeytypegame#7023)

Couple quotes from All Quiet on the Western Front and one from The
Brothers Karamazov.

---------

Co-authored-by: Miodec <[email protected]>

Author: Flatbread231

frontend/static/quotes/english.json

@@ -38979,6 +38979,42 @@
       "source": "Severance",
       "id": 7709,
       "length": 166
+    },
+    {
+      "text": "We go back. We trot off silently in single file one behind the other. The wounded are taken to the dressing-station. The morning is cloudy. The bearers make a fuss about numbers and tickets, the wounded whimper. It beings to rain. An hour later we reach our lorries and climb in. There is more room now than there was. The rain becomes heavier. We take out waterproof sheets and spread them over our heads. The rain rattles down, and flows off at the sides in streams. The lorries bump through the holes, and we rock to and fro in a half-sleep. Two men in the front of the lorry have long forked poles. They watch for telephone wires which hang crosswise over the road so low that they might easily pull our heads off. The two fellows take them at the right moment on their poles and lift them over behind us. We hear their call 'Mind-wire-,' dip the knee in a half-sleep and straighten up again.",
+      "source": "All Quiet on The Western Front",
+      "id": 7710,
+      "length": 896
+    },
+    {
+      "text": "The thunder of the guns swells to a single heavy roar and then breaks up again into separate explosions. The dry bursts of the machine-guns rattle; above us the air teems with invisible swift movement, with howls, pipings, and hisses. They are smaller shells; and amongst them, booming through the night like an organ, go the great coal-boxes and the heavies. They have a hoarse, distant bellow like a rutting stag and make their way high above the howl and whistle of the smaller shells. It reminds me of flocks of wild geese when I hear them. Last autumn the wild geese flew day after day across the path of the shells. The searchlights begin to sweep the dark sky. They slide along it like gigantic tapering rulers. One of them pauses, and quivers a little. Immediately a second is beside it; a black insect is caught between them and tries to escape - the airman. He hesitates, is blinded and falls.",
+      "source": "All Quiet on the Western Front",
+      "id": 7711,
+      "length": 903
+    },
+    {
+      "text": "Life wants to be lived, and I live it, even though it goes against logic. Very well, so I don't believe in the order of things, but the sticky leaf buds that open in spring are dear to me, as is the blue sky, as are certain people whom, would you believe it, sometimes one loves one knows not why.",
+      "source": "The Brothers Karamazov",
+      "id": 7712,
+      "length": 297
+    },
+    {
+      "text": "A man cannot realize that above such shattered bodies there are still human faces in which life goes its daily round. And this is only one hospital, one single station; there are hundreds of thousands in Germany, hundreds of thousands in France, hundreds of thousands in Russia. How senseless is everything that can ever be written, done, or thought, when such things are possible. It must all be lies and of no account when the culture of a thousand years could not prevent this stream of blood being poured out, these torture-chambers in their hundreds of thousands. A hospital alone shows what war is.",
+      "source": "All Quiet on The Western Front",
+      "id": 7713,
+      "length": 604
+    },
+    {
+      "text": "I am young, I am twenty years old; yet I know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow. I see how peoples are set against one another, and in silence, unknowingly, foolishly, obediently, innocently slay one another. I see that the keenest brains of the world invent weapons and words to make it yet more refined and enduring. And all men of my age, here and over there, throughout the whole world, see these things; all my generation is experiencing these things with me. What would our fathers do if we suddenly stood up and came before them and proffered our account? What do they expect of us if a time ever comes when the war is over? Through the years our business has been killing; it was our first calling in life. Our knowledge of life is limited to death. What will happen afterwards? And what shall come out of us?",
+      "source": "All Quiet on the Western Front",
+      "id": 7714,
+      "length": 881
+    },
+    {
+      "text": "The sun had nearly reached the meridian, and his scorching rays fell full on the rocks, which seemed themselves sensible of the heat. Thousands of grasshoppers, hidden in the bushes, chirped with a monotonous and dull note; the leaves of the myrtle and olive trees waved and rustled in the wind. At every step that Edmond took he disturbed the lizards glittering with the hues of the emerald; afar off he saw the wild goats bounding from crag to crag. In a word, the island was inhabited, yet Edmond felt himself alone, guided by the hand of God. He felt an indescribable sensation somewhat akin to dread-that dread of the daylight which even in the desert makes us fear we are watched and observed. This feeling was so strong that at the moment when Edmond was about to begin his labor, he stopped, laid down his pickaxe, seized his gun, mounted to the summit of the highest rock, and from thence gazed round in every direction.",
+      "source": "The Count of Monte Cristo",
+      "id": 7715,
+      "length": 929
     }
   ]
 }