Moscow, how many strains are fusing in that one sound, for Russian hearts! What store of riches it imparts!
ALEXANDER PUSHKINA 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.
More Alexander Pushkin Quotes
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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 -
Better the illusions that exalt us than ten thousand truths.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
If you but knew the flames that burn in me which I attempt to beat down with my reason.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
With womankind, the less we love them, the easier they become to charm.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
I want to understand you, I study your obscure language.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
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 -
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 -
Inspiration is needed in geometry, just as much as in poetry.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
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 -
Try to be forgotten. Go live in the country. Stay in mourning for two years, then remarry, but choose somebody decent.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
Play interests me very much,” said Hermann: “but I am not in the position to sacrifice the necessary in the hope of winning the superfluous.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
I am married and happy. My only wish is that nothing will change.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
Moral maxims are surprisingly useful on occasions when we can invent little else to justify our actions.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN -
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 -
My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN