Poetry is news brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo.
CZESLAW MILOSZThe death of a man is like the fall of a mighty nation That had valiant armies, captains, and prophets, And wealthy ports and ships all over the seas.
More Czeslaw Milosz Quotes
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At every sunrise I renounce the doubts of night and greet the new day of a most precious delusion.
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If I am all mankind, are they themselves without me?
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What is this enigmatic impulse that does not allow one to settle down in the achieved, the finished? I think it is a quest for reality.
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I imagine the earth when I am no more: Women’s dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley. Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born, Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
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The soul exceeds its circumstances.
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On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
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When a writer is born into a family, the family is finished.
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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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A weak human mercy walks in the corridors of hospitals and is like a half-thawed winter.
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Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet Yet is not a prophet, for he’s much too busy, Repeats while he binds his tomatoes: No other end of the world will there be, No other end of the world will there be.
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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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Our memory is childish and it saves only what we need.
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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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You see how I try To reach with words What matters most And how I fail.
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The partition separating life from death is so tenuous. The unbelievable fragility of our organism suggests a vision on a screen: a kind of mist condenses itself into a human shape, lasts a moment and scatters.
CZESLAW MILOSZ