I think that I am here, on this earth, to present a report on it, but to whom I don’t know. As if I were sent so that whatever takes place has meaning because it changes into memory.
CZESLAW MILOSZMen will clutch at illusions when they have nothing else to hold to.
More Czeslaw Milosz Quotes
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All of us yearn for the highest wisdom, but we have to rely on ourselves in the end.
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I have defined poetry as a ‘passionate pursuit of the Real.
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Learning To believe you are magnificent. And gradually to discover that you are not magnificent. Enough labor for one human life.
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Grow your tree of falsehood from a small grain of truth. Do not follow those who lie in contempt of reality. Let your lie be even more logical than the truth itself, so the weary travelers may find repose.
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When I die, I will see the lining of the world. The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset.
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The death of a man is like the fall of a mighty nation That had valiant armies, captains, and prophets, And wealthy ports and ships all over the seas.
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It’s true that what is morbid is highly valued today, and so you may think that I am only joking or that I’ve devised just one more means of praising Art with the help of irony.
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A man should not love the moon. An ax should not lose weight in his hand. His garden should smell of rotting apples, And grow a fair amount of nettles.
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Human material seems to have one major defect: it does not like to be considered merely as human material. It finds it hard to endure the feeling that it must resign itself to passive acceptance of changes introduced from above.
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It is impossible to communicate to people who have not experienced it the undefinable menace of total rationalism.
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Language is the only homeland.
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A weak human mercy walks in the corridors of hospitals and is like a half-thawed winter.
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In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.
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I have no wisdom, no skills, and no faith but I received strength, it tears the world apart. I shall break, a heavy wave, against its shores and a young wave will cover my trace.
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Even if that is so, there will remain A word wakened by lips that perish, A tireless messenger who runs and runs Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies, And calls out, protests, screams.
CZESLAW MILOSZ






