It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table; A candle burned.
BORIS PASTERNAKA corner draft fluttered the flame And the white fever of temptation Upswept its angel wings that cast A cruciform shadow.
More Boris Pasternak Quotes
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Our evenings are farewells. Our parties are testaments. So that the secret stream of suffering. May warm the cold of life.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
And so it turned out that only a life similar to the life of those around us, merging with it without a ripple, is genuine life, and that an unshared happiness is not happiness.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
And remember: you must never, under any circumstances, despair. To hope and to act, these are our duties in misfortune.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
No deep and strong feeling, such as we may come across here and there in the world, is unmixed with compassion. The more we love, the more the object of our love seems to us to be a victim.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
I love you wildly, insanely, infinitely.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
You fall into my arms. You are the good gift of destruction’s path, When life sickens more than disease And boldness is the root of beauty – Which draws us together.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
The most extraordinary discoveries are made when the artist is overwhelmed by what he has to say.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
All mothers are mothers of great people, and it is not their fault that life later disappoints them.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
As for the men in power, they are so anxious to establish the myth of infallibility that they do their utmost to ignore truth.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
No single man makes history. History cannot be seen just as one cannot see grass growing.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
The unarmed power of naked truth.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
And why is it, thought Lara, that my fate is to see everything and take it all so much to heart?
BORIS PASTERNAK -
Art has two constant, two unending concerns: It always meditates on death and thus always creates life. All great, genuine art resembles and continues the Revelation of St John.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation’s tears in shoulder blades.
BORIS PASTERNAK -
The whole of life is symbolic because the whole of it has meaning.
BORIS PASTERNAK