Hurt and pain Quotes by Vladimir Mayakovsky

1 Hurt and pain quote by Vladimir Mayakovsky

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Love's ship has foundered on the rocks of life. We're quits: stupid to draw up a list of mutual sorrows, hurts and pains.

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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If you like I'll be furious flesh elemental, or- changing to tones that the sunset arouses- if you like- I'll be extraordinary gentle, not…

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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I understand the power and the alarm of words - Not those that they applaud from theatre-boxes, but those which make coffins break from bearers and on their four oak legs walk right away.

Vladimir Mayakovsky

Our planet is poorly equipped for delight. One must snatch gladness from the days that are. In this life it's not difficult to die.…

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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Comrade life, let us march faster, March faster through what's left of the five-year plan.

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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On the pavement of my trampled soul the steps of madmen weave the prints of rude crude words.

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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“You entered, Abrupt like “Take it!”, Mauling suede gloves, you tarried, And said: “You know,- I’m soon getting married.” Get married then. It’s all right, I can handle it. You see - I’m calm, of course! Like the pulse Of a corpse. Remember? You used to say: “Jack London, Money, Love and ardour,”-- I saw one thing only: You were…

Vladimir Mayakovsky

“Soon, sampled by everyone, Stale and pallid, I’ll come out And mumble toothlessly That today I’m “Remarkably candid.”

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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“Men, crumpled like bed-sheets in hospitals, And women, battered like overused proverbs.”

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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Gentle souls! You play your love on the violin. The crude ones play it on the drums violently. But can you turn yourselves inside…

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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“Then there's amortization, the deadliest of all; amortization of the heart and soul.”

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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“Oleg Bard: I understand, but by virtue of that power of imagination which, according to [Georgi] Plekhanov, is granted to Marxists, I can already…

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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A line is a fuse that's lit. The line smolders, the rhyme explodes— and by a stanza a city is blown to bits.

Vladimir Mayakovsky

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