Grow your tree of falsehood from a small grain of truth. Do not follow those who lie in contempt of reality. Let your lie be even more logical than the truth itself, so the weary travelers may find repose.
CZESLAW MILOSZAnd now I am ready to keep running When the sun rises beyond the borderlands of death. I already see mountain ridges in the heavenly forest Where, beyond every essence, a new essence awaits.
More Czeslaw Milosz Quotes
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Two attributes of a poet, avidity of the eye and the desire to describe that which he sees.
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The true enemy of man is generalization.
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It’s true that what is morbid is highly valued today, and so you may think that I am only joking or that I’ve devised just one more means of praising Art with the help of irony.
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I knew that I would speak in the language of the vanquished No more durable than old customs, family rituals, Christmas tinsel, and once a year the hilarity of carols.
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I liked beaches, swimming pools, and clinics for there they were the bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. I pitied them and myself, but this will not protect me. The word and the thought are over.
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Poetry is a dividend from what you know and what you are.
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All of us yearn for the highest wisdom, but we have to rely on ourselves in the end.
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Human material seems to have one major defect: it does not like to be considered merely as human material. It finds it hard to endure the feeling that it must resign itself to passive acceptance of changes introduced from above.
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We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.
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I think that I am here, on this earth, to present a report on it, but to whom I don’t know. As if I were sent so that whatever takes place has meaning because it changes into memory.
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Learning To believe you are magnificent. And gradually to discover that you are not magnificent. Enough labor for one human life.
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From life, from the apple cut by the flaming knife, what grain will be saved? My son, believe me, nothing remains, Only adult toil, the furrow of fate in the palm. Only toil, Nothing more.
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The revolt against one’s environment is usually ‘shame’ of one’s environment.
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The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.
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Be young forever, seasons of the earth.
CZESLAW MILOSZ