Maxioms by Boris Pasternak
Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of read more
Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation's tears in shoulder blades.
At the moment of childbirth, every woman has the same aura of isolation, as though she were abandoned, alone.
At the moment of childbirth, every woman has the same aura of isolation, as though she were abandoned, alone.
It snowed and snowed, the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A read more
It snowed and snowed, the whole world over,
Snow swept the world from end to end.
A candle burned on the table;
A candle burned.
What is laid down, ordered, factual is never enough to embrace the whole truth: life always spills over the rim read more
What is laid down, ordered, factual is never enough to embrace the whole truth: life always spills over the rim of every cup. -Boris Pasternak.
Man is born to live, not to prepare for life.
Man is born to live, not to prepare for life.
