History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, as though the one had never existed: an imaginary embryo, an empty cradle, ... emptiness running down steps toward the garden, nobody's place in line. — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
I usually write for the individual reader -though I would like to have many such readers. There are some poets who write for people… — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
Out of every hundred people, those who always know better: fifty-two. — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
I don't know the role I'm playing. I only know it's mine, non-convertible. — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile. — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
Poetic talent doesn't operate in a vacuum. There is a spirit of Polish poetry. — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
“Every beginning, after all, is nothing but a sequel, and the book of events is always open in the middle.” — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
All the best have something in common, a regard for reality, an agreement to its primacy over the imagination. Even the richest, most surprising… — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
“Four billion people on this earth but my imagination is still the same. It's bad with large numbers. It's still taken by particularity. It… — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
Most of the earth's inhabitants work to get by. They work because they have to. They didn't pick this or that kind of job… — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men. — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
Carry on, then, if only for the moment that it takes a tiny galaxy to blink! — Wislawa Szymborska Copy Share Image
