Quotes from Boris Pasternak

In years of affliction, in times Of unthinkable daily life, She was thrown to him from the bottom By the wave of destiny.

Oh, what love this was, free, unprecedented, unlike anything else! They thought the way other people sing.

And therefore the exaltation of man over the rest of nature, the fashionable fussing over and worshipping of man, never appealed to them. Such false principles of social life, turned into politics, seemed to them pathetically homemade and remained incomprehensible.

Rome was a marketplace of borrowed gods and conquered peoples

Nadie hace la historia, la historia no se ve, como no se ve crecer la hierba .

The kingdom of plants so easily offers itself as the nearest neighbor to the kingdom of death. Here, in the earth's greenery, among the trees of the cemetery, amidst the sprouting flowers rising up from the beds, are perhaps concentrated the mysteries of of transformation and and the riddles of life that we puzzle over. Mary at first did not recognize Jesus coming from the tomb and took him for the gardener walking in the cemetery.

At the end was someone's garden plot. Leaving his disciples outside the wall, He said, "My soul is sorrowful unto death, Tarry here and watch with me." He renounced without a struggle, As things merely borrowed for a time, His miracle-working and omnipotence, And was now like mortals, like us all.

And, peering into those dark gulfs, Empty, without beginning or end, And sweating blood, he prayed to his Father That this cup of death might pass.

Could my Father not provide me With hosts of winged legions? Then, Having touched not a hair upon my head, My enemies would scatter without a trace. "But the book of life has reached a page Dearer than all that's sacred.

They came out of the vault intoxicated, not by the mere thought of food, but by the consciousness that they too were of use in the world and did not live in vain, and had deserved the praise and thanks which Tonya would shower on them at home.

One day Larisa Fyodorovna left the house and did not come back again. Evidently she was arrested on the street in those days or died or vanished no one knew where, forgotten under some nameless number on subsequently lost lists, in one of the countless general or women's concentration camps in the north.

And now listen carefully. You in others—this is your soul. This is what you are. This is what your consciousness has breathed and lived on and enjoyed throughout your life—your soul, your immortality, your life in others. And what now? You have always been in others and you will remain in others. And what does it matter to you if later on that is called your memory? This will be you—the you that enters the future and becomes a part of it.

Inariparea Å£i s-a dat pentru ca aripile s? te poarte dincolo de nori, iar eu, ca femeie ce sunt, am aripi ca s? m? lipesc de p?mânt ÅŸi s?-mi ocrotesc cu ele puiul de primejdie.

MyÅ›lÄ™, ?e gdyby drzemiÄ…cÄ… w czÅ'owieku bestiÄ™ mo?na byÅ'o powstrzyma? gro?bÄ… - niewa?ne: wiÄ™zienia czy kary poÅ›miertnej - wówczas najwy?szym emblematem ludzkoÅ›ci byÅ'by pogromca cyrkowy z biczem w rÄ™ku, a nie peÅ'en poÅ›wiÄ™cenia gÅ'osiciel prawdy.

Remember, there are neither honest people nor friends anymore. Still less anyone knowledgeable

Ma che cos'è la storia? È un dar principio a lavori secolari per riuscire a poco a poco a risolvere il mistero della morte e a vincerla un giorno.

Man is born to live, and not to prepare to live.

Through its inborn faculty of hearing, poetry seeks the melody of nature amid the noise of the dictionary, then, picking it out like picking out a tune, it gives itself up to improvisation on that theme.

No one makes history, it is not visible, just as it is impossible to see grass grow.

Drying, the storm mumbles, / like a freshly washed apron.

Solamente los solitarios buscan la verdad y rompen con quien no la ame lo bastante.

When they jumped down on the tracks, stretched their limbs, picked flowers, and took a little run, they all had the feeling that the place had just emerged only thanks to the stop, and that the swampy meadow with its knolls, the wide river, with a beautiful house and a church on the high bank opposite, would not be there had it not been for the accident that had taken place.

El alma del hombre es justamente el hombre presente en los otros hombres.

Los niños son sinceros, no tienen prejuicios y no se avergüenzan de la verdad, mientras nosotros, por miedo de parecer atrasados, estamos siempre dispuestos a traicionar lo que nos es más querido, a elogiar cosas que nos repugnan y aceptar otras que no comprendemos.