Quotes from Sasha Sokolov

My love and my joy, if I die from illness, madness or sadness, if before the time allotted me by fate is up, I can't get enough of looking at you, enough joy in the dilapidated mills on the emerald wormwood hills, if I don't drink my fill of the transparent water from your immortal hands, if I don't make it to the end, if I don't tell everything that I wanted to tell about you, about myself, if one day I die without saying farewell—forgive me.

what will happen to us this night will resemble a flame consuming the icy desert, a shower of stars reflected in a piece of a mirror that in the darkness suddenly fell out of its frame to warn its owner about the proximity of death. It'll resemble the shepherd's pipe and the music that has not been written yet.

I don't know why it so happens in life that one absolutely can't do something simple but important.

Happily chatting and counting pocket change, patting each other on the back and whistling foolish songs, we go out on the thousand-legged street and miraculously turn into passersby.

The song of the years, the melody of life. Everything else - is not you, all others are strangers. And you yourself, who are you? You don't know. You'll get to know it later, when you string the beads of memory. You'll be what is most endearing, most cruel and most eternal.

whether it's the bitter treasury of folk wisdom or sweet adages and dicta, whether it's the dust of the bedamned or the dismay of the beloved, the sacks of bums or Judas's sums, whether it's movement from or standing by, the lies of the defrauded or the truths of the defamed, whether war or peace, whether stages or studios, taints or torments, whether darkness or light, hatred or pity, in life and beyond it—whether it's any of these, or anything else, you have to make good sense of it.

Das ist so ein dichterischer Unsinn – die Reihenfolge der Tage. Es gibt keinerlei Reihenfolge, die Tage kommen, wann es ihnen passt, manchmal auch ein paar auf einmal. Es kommt auch vor, dass ein Tag lange nicht kommt. Dann lebt man in die Leere, begreift nichts und ist recht krank. Und andere Leute auch, sind auch krank, aber sie halten den Mund.

On one of the shores the cuckoo was counting my years.

A book is the best gift, everything best in me I owe to books, book after book, cherish books-they ennoble and refine one's taste, you look in a book but see gobbledygook, a book is man's best friend, it enhances interiors, exteriors, and fox terriers.