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My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?

Alexander Pushkin

Related Topics

Dreams Myself Sweet Youth

Bagwalas

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Ballet is a dance executed by the human soul.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Dance Human Soul
Habit is Heaven’s own redress: it takes the place of happiness.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Habit Happiness Heaven Place
In this, our age of infamy Man’s choice is but to be A tyrant, traitor, prisoner: No other choice has he.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Age Choice Himself Man Prison
Better the illusions that exalt us than ten thousand truths.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Better Illusion Stop Truth
I was not born to amuse the Tsars.
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Amusing Born Myself
It is better to have dreamed a thousand dreams that never were than never to have dreamed at all.
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Better Choice Dreams
I do not like Moscow life. You live here not as you want to live, but as old women want you to.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Life Live Old Woman Yourself
My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Dreams Myself Sweet Youth
Sad that our finest aspiration, Our freshest dreams and meditations, In swift succession should decay, Like Autumn leaves that rot away.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Aspiration Dreams Fine Fresh Leaving Sad Success
Ecstasy is a glass full of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Happiness Joy Mouth Pieces
Thank you, darling, for learning to play chess. It is an absolute necessity for any well organized family. (in a letter to his wife)
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Darling Family Learning Organization
I want to understand you, I study your obscure language.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Language Myself Study Understand
Inspiration is needed in geometry, just as much as in poetry.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Mathematics Need Poetry
The less we show our love to a woman, Or please her less, and neglect our duty, The more we trap and ruin her surely, In the flattering toils of philandery.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Avoid Herself Love Please Responsibility Woman
I’ve lived to bury my desires, And see my dreams corrode with rust; Now all that’s left are fruitless fires That burn my empty heart to dust.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Burn Bury Desire Dreams Empty Heart Live
Moscow, how many strains are fusing in that one sound, for Russian hearts! What store of riches it imparts!
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Fuse Heart Store Strain

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