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There is so much Everything that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.

Wislawa Szymborska

Something doesn’t start at its usual time. Something doesn’t happen as it should. Someone was always, always here, then suddenly disappeared and stubbornly stays disappeared.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Disappear Start Stay Stubborn Time
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
Get to know other worlds, if only for comparison.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Comparison Knowledge World
Somewhere out there the world must have an end.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Cosmos End Space World
We’re extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in. One would have to live a long, long time, unquestionably longer than the world itself.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Fortune Kind Live Precise Question World
God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Believe Different God Goodness Man Strong
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
Memory at last has what I sought.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Last Memories Myself Thinking
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
Poorly prepared for the dignity of life, I barely keep up with the pace of the action imposed. Reality demands.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Action Demand Myself Poor Preparation Reality
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
Existentialists are monumentally and monotonously serious; they don’t like to joke.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Boredom Existence Joke Monumental Serious
I’d have to be really quick to describe clouds – a split second’s enough for them to start being something else.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Cloud Description Enough Myself Quick Start
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
The joy of writing. The power of preserving. Revenge of a mortal hand.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Hands Joy Mortal Perseverance Power Revenge Writing
Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Code Light Secret

There is so much Everything that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.

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There is so much Everything that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.

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