For a country without a past is nothing, a word That, hardly spoken, loses its meaning, A perishable wall destroyed by flame, An echo of animal emotions.
CZESLAW MILOSZI have defined poetry as a ‘passionate pursuit of the Real.
More Czeslaw Milosz Quotes
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The voice of passion is better than the voice of reason. The passionless cannot change history.
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Do you know how it is when one wakes at night suddenly and asks, listening to the pounding heart: what more do you want, insatiable?
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What is this enigmatic impulse that does not allow one to settle down in the achieved, the finished? I think it is a quest for reality.
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It was only toward the middle of the twentieth century that the inhabitants of many European countries came, in general unpleasantly, to the realization that their fate could be influenced directly by intricate and abstruse books of philosophy.
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You see how I try To reach with words What matters most And how I fail.
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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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If I am all mankind, are they themselves without me?
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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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You who think of us: they lived only in delusion, Know that we the People of the Book, will never die!
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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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The revolt against one’s environment is usually ‘shame’ of one’s environment.
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Two attributes of a poet, avidity of the eye and the desire to describe that which he sees.
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And now I am ready to keep running When the sun rises beyond the borderlands of death. I already see mountain ridges in the heavenly forest Where, beyond every essence, a new essence awaits.
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We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.
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Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet Yet is not a prophet, for he’s much too busy, Repeats while he binds his tomatoes: No other end of the world will there be, No other end of the world will there be.
CZESLAW MILOSZ