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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

Related Topics

Burn Bury Desire Dreams Empty Heart Live

Bagwalas

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Ecstasy is a glass full of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Happiness Joy Mouth Pieces
Write for pleasure and publish for money.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Happiness Oneself Pleasure Publish Writing
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
If you but knew the flames that burn in me which I attempt to beat down with my reason.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Attempt Burn Flame Reason
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
A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Dear Deception Elevate Host Low Truth
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
Habit is Heaven’s own redress: it takes the place of happiness.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Habit Happiness Heaven Place
Somewhere between obsession and compulsion is impulse.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Compulsion Impulse Obsession
Cabbage soup and barley. They’re Russia’s national food. Both excellent in their way, but a shade monotonous.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Barley Boredom Excellence Food National Shade Soup
Please, never despise the translator. He’s the mailman of human civilization.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Civilization Human Translation
Don’t be sad, don’t be angry, if life deceives you! Submit to your grief – your time for joy will come, believe me.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Angry Believe Grief Joy Myself Sadness Time
Better the illusions that exalt us than ten thousand truths.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Better Illusion Stop Truth
I was not born to amuse the Tsars.
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Amusing Born Myself
My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?
ALEXANDER PUSHKIN

Dreams Myself Sweet Youth
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

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