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During the last years of Mayakovski’s life, when all poetry had ceased to exist . . . literature had stopped.

Boris Pasternak

Art always serves beauty, and beauty is the joy of possessing form, and form is the key to organic life since no living thing can exist without it.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Art Beautiful Existence Joy Key Organic Serve
He realised, more vividly than ever before, that art had two constant, two unending preoccupations: it is always meditating upon death and it is always thereby creating life.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Art Death Life Meditation Occupation Realization
But the division in him was a sorrow and a torment, and he became accustomed to it only as one gets used to an unhealed and frequently reopened wound.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Accustom Division Healing Sorrow Torture Wound
An unshared happiness is not happiness.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Happiness Share
But what are pity, conscience, or fear To the brazen pair, compared With the living sorcery Of their hot embraces?
BORIS PASTERNAK

Conscience Embrace Fear Live
He comes as a guest to the feast of existence, and knows that what matters is not how much he inherits but how he behaves at the feast, and what people remember and love him for.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Existence Himself Inheritance Love People Remember
We’re all time’s captives, hostages to eternity.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Deep Forever One Liner Prison Time
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

Blade Creation Poetry Rich Tears
The whole wide world is a cathedral; I stand inside, the air is calm, And from afar at times there reaches My ear the echo of a psalm.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Calm Myself Reach Religious Stand World
In life it is more necessary to lose than to gain. A seed will only germinate if it dies.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Death Life Lose Necessary
Mother Russia is on the move, she can’t stand still, she’s restless and can’t find rest, she’s talking and she can’t stop.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Finding Herself Move Stand Stop
You are eternity’s hostage A captive of mine.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Forever Myself Prison Yourself
Yet the order of the acts is planned And the end of the way inescapable. I am alone; all drowns in the Pharisees’ hypocrisy.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Act End Escape Hypocrisy One Liner Order Planning
Only the solitary seek the truth, and they break with all those who don’t love it sufficiently.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Break Enough Seek Solitary Truth
What for centuries raised man above the beast is not the cudgel but the irresistible power of unarmed truth.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Man Power Resist Truth
No bad man can be a good poet.
BORIS PASTERNAK

Bad Goodness Man One Liner Poet

During the last years of Mayakovski’s life, when all poetry had ceased to exist . . . literature had stopped.

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During the last years of Mayakovski’s life, when all poetry had ceased to exist . . . literature had stopped.

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