From life, from the apple cut by the flaming knife, what grain will be saved? My son, believe me, nothing remains, Only adult toil, the furrow of fate in the palm. Only toil, Nothing more. — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
The vineyard country, russet, reddish, carmine-brown in this season. A blue outline of hills above a fertile valley. It's warm as long as the sun does not set, in the shade cold returns. A strong sauna and then swimming in… — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
The child who dwells inside us trusts that there are wise men somewhere who know the truth. — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself. — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
“And Yet the Books And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings, That appeared once, still wet As shining chestnuts… — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
“When someone is honestly 55 percent right, that’s very good and there’s no use wrangling. And if someone is 60 percent right, it’s wonderful,… — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
“The worst possible sexual education: a taboo imposed by the Catholic church plus romantic literature elevating love to unreal heights plus the obscene language… — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
And if there is no lining to the world? If a thrush on a branch is not a sign, But just a thrush on… — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
At every sunrise I renounce the doubts of night and greet the new day of a most precious delusion. — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
I imagine the earth when I am no more: Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley. Yet the books will be there… — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
There was a time when only wise books were read helping us to bear our pain and misery. This, after all, is not quite… — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
“In the very essence of poetry there is something indecent; A thing brought forth that we didn't know we had in us, So we… — Czeslaw Milosz Copy Share Image
