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Alexander Pushkin

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

Habit Happiness Heaven Place
A man who’s active and incisive can yet keep nail-care much in mind: why fight what’s known to be decisive? Custom is despot of mankind.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Active Care Fight Kind Man Mindset
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
I was not born to amuse the Tsars.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

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

Better Choice Dreams
Mistress-like, its brilliance vain, highly capricious and inane.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Brilliant Capacity Sanity
I am married and happy. My only wish is that nothing will change.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Change Happiness Marriage Myself
With womankind, the less we love them, the easier they become to charm.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Charm Kind Love Woman
Love passed, the Muse appeared, the weather of mind got clarity new-found; now free, I once more weave together emotion, thought, and magic sound.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Appearance Emotion Finding Love Magic Sound Togetherness Weave
Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world than two bodies can occupy one and the same place in the physical world.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Existence Ideas Physical Place Togetherness World
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
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
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
Tis time, my friend, ’tis time! For rest the heart is aching; Days follow days in flight, and every day is taking, Fragments of being, while together you and I, Make plans to live. Look, all is dust, and we shall die.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Day Death Fragment Friendship Heart Time
Then came a moment of renaissance, I looked up – you again are there, A fleeting vision, the quintessence Of all that`s beautiful and rare.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Beautiful Moments Myself Rare Vision

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Write for pleasure and publish for money.

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