Somewhere out there the world must have an end.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKASomewhere out there the world must have an end.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKANo one in my family has ever died of love. What happened, happened, but nothing myth-inspiring.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAAll imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKANothing’s a gift, it’s all on loan.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKATheir faith will make it easier for them to live and die.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAThere’s simply too much fuss about myself.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAI am a tarsier and a tarsier’s son, the grandson and great-grandson of tarsiers, a tiny creature, made up of two pupils and whatever simply could not be left out.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAMemory at last has what I sought.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAI prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKACarry on, then, if only for the moment that it takes a tiny galaxy to blink!
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKALife lasts but a few scratches of the claw in the sand.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAIt’s just not easy to explain to someone else what you don’t understand yourself.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAEven a graphomaniac is an extremely complicated person.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAI cannot imagine any writer who would not fight for his peace and quiet.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAThe joy of writing. The power of preserving. Revenge of a mortal hand.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKAEven boredom should be described with gusto. How many things are happening on a day when nothing happens?
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA