“She was incomparable in her inspired loveliness. Her arms amazed one, as one can be astonished by a lofty way of thinking. Her shadow on the wallpaper of the hotel room seemed the silhouette of her uncorruption.” — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
“After two or three stanzas and several images by which he was himself astonished, his work took possession of him and he experienced the approach of what is called inspiration. At such moments the correlation of the forces controlling the… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
“The saddest thing of all was that their party represented a deviation from the conditions of the time. It was impossible to imagine that… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
No deep and strong feeling, such as we may come across here and there in the world, is unmixed with compassion. The more we… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
Art has two constant, two unending concerns: It always meditates on death and thus always creates life. All great, genuine art resembles and continues… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
I think that if the beast who sleeps in man could be held down by threats of any kind, whether of jail or retribution,… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
And so it turned out that only a life similar to the life of those around us, merging with it without a ripple, is… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
I come here to speak poetry. It will always be in the grass. It will also be necessary to bend down to hear it.… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
“I'll stay with you a little, my unforgettable delight, for as long as my arms and my hands and my lips remember you. I'll… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
If it's so painful to love and absorb electricity, how much more painful it is to be a woman, to be the electricity, to… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
I don't like purely philosophical works. I think a little philosophy should be added to life and art by way of seasoning, but to… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
“But sometimes, to enable her to bear her life, she needed the accompaniment of an inward music and she could not always compose it… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
