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Memory at last has what I sought.

Wislawa Szymborska

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Last Memories Myself Thinking

Bagwalas

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

No day copies yesterday, no two nights will teach what bliss is in precisely the same way, with precisely the same kisses.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bliss Kiss Past Teaching Time Way
The joy of writing. The power of preserving. Revenge of a mortal hand.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Hands Joy Mortal Perseverance Power Revenge Writing
There is so much Everything that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Deep Hide Quite Spiritual
Memory at last has what I sought.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Last Memories Myself Thinking
You can find the entire cosmos lurking in its least remarkable objects.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Cosmos Finding Inspirational Nature Object Remark Yourself
Even the worst book can give us something to think about.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Book Mindset Thinking Worst
All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Memories Myself Search
I am a tarsier and a tarsier’s son, the grandson and great-grandson of tarsiers, a tiny creature, made up of two pupils and whatever simply could not be left out.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Creature Myself Simplicity Son
I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Myself Personality Thinking
I’m fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bad Fight Myself Poet Word
Carry on, then, if only for the moment that it takes a tiny galaxy to blink!
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Blink Carry Funny Galaxy Moments
Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice?
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Choice Decision Kind Perspective
No one in my family has ever died of love. What happened, happened, but nothing myth-inspiring.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Death Family Love Mythical
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Absurd Myself Poem Preference Writing
I slide my arm from under the sleeper’s head and it is numb, full of swarming pins, on the tip of each, waiting to be counted, the fallen angels sit.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Angel Count Head Myself Sleep
Existentialists are monumentally and monotonously serious; they don’t like to joke.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Boredom Existence Joke Monumental Serious

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