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All the best have something in common, a regard for reality, an agreement to its primacy over the imagination.

Wislawa Szymborska

Any knowledge that doesn’t lead to new questions quickly dies out: it fails to maintain the temperature required for sustaining life.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Knowledge Leadership Life Maintain Question Temperature
Generally speaking, life is so rich and full of variety; you have to remember all the time that there is a comical side to everything.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Comic Remember Rich Talk Variety Yourself
Dying – you can’t do that to a cat.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Animal Cat Death Yourself
And whatever I do will become forever what I’ve done.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Forever Myself Perspective Willing
No one feels good at four in the morning. If ants feel good at four in the morning —three cheers for the ants.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Feeling Good Morning Oneself
At the very beginning of my creative life I loved humanity. I wanted to do something good for mankind. Soon I understood that it isn’t possible to save mankind.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Beginning Creativity Humanity Kind Life Love Man Myself Understand
My choices are rejections, since there is no other way, but what I reject is more numerous, denser, more demanding than before. A little poem, a sigh, at the cost of indescribable losses.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Choice Demand Loss Myself Rejection Way
Existentialists are monumentally and monotonously serious; they don’t like to joke.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Boredom Existence Joke Monumental Serious
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 don’t know the role I’m playing. I only know it’s mine, non-convertible.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Myself Play Role
I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bone Myself Time
Sometimes I write quickly, sometimes I spend several weeks on a single poem. I would really love for readers not to be able to guess which of the poems took so much work!
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Myself Poem Quick Reading Time Work 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
I cannot imagine any writer who would not fight for his peace and quiet.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Fight Himself Imagination Myself Peace Quiet
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Chaos Hell Myself Order Preference
Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Code Light Secret

All the best have something in common, a regard for reality, an agreement to its primacy over the imagination.

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All the best have something in common, a regard for reality, an agreement to its primacy over the imagination.

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