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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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It is better to have dreamed a thousand dreams that never were than never to have dreamed at all.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Better Choice Dreams
As long as there is one heart on Earth where I still live, my memory will not die.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Death Heart Live Memories Oneself
Fearing no insult, asking for no crown, receive with indifference both flattery and slander, and do not argue with a fool.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Argument Difference Fear Flattery Fools Insult
Cabbage soup and barley. They’re Russia’s national food. Both excellent in their way, but a shade monotonous.
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Barley Boredom Excellence Food National Shade Soup
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
I am married and happy. My only wish is that nothing will change.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Change Happiness Marriage Myself
Ballet is a dance executed by the human soul.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Dance Human Soul
Somewhere between obsession and compulsion is impulse.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Compulsion Impulse Obsession
Try to be forgotten. Go live in the country. Stay in mourning for two years, then remarry, but choose somebody decent.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Body Choice Country Decent Forget Live Marriage Try
Write for pleasure and publish for money.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Happiness Oneself Pleasure Publish Writing
Mistress-like, its brilliance vain, highly capricious and inane.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Brilliant Capacity Sanity
Please, never despise the translator. He’s the mailman of human civilization.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Civilization Human Translation
Inspiration is needed in geometry, just as much as in poetry.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Mathematics Need Poetry
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
My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Dreams Myself Sweet Youth
To love all ages yield surrender; But to the young it’s raptures bring A blessing bountiful and tender- As storms refresh the fields of spring.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Age Blessing Love Refreshment Storm Surrender

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