A child playing with dolls may shed heartfelt tears when his bundle of rags and scraps becomes deathly ill and dies ... So we may come to an understanding of language as playing with dolls: in language, scraps of sound… — Velimir Khlebnikov Copy Share Image
“You are my song, my dark blue dream Of doves, of winter's drowsy drone, And sleighs that slow and golden go Through gray blue… — Velimir Khlebnikov Copy Share Image
Scrape the surface of language, and you will behold interstellar space and the skin that encloses it. — Velimir Khlebnikov Copy Share Image
A child playing with dolls may shed heartfelt tears when his bundle of rags and scraps becomes deathly ill and dies ... So we… — Velimir Khlebnikov Copy Share Image
“But every line we write breathes victory and challenge, the bad temper of a conqueror, underground explosions, howls. We are a volcano. We vomit… — Velimir Khlebnikov Copy Share Image
