Human life and objects and trees vibrate with mysterious meanings, which can be deciphered like cuneiform writing. There exists a meaning, hidden from day to day, but accessible in moments of greatest attentiveness, in those moments when consciousness loves the… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
And now, advice for beginning mystics. Be sober, be intelligent, be educated, rely on the tangible reality as long as you can. Remember that the act of writing is a tiny part of a bigger something. Defend the value of… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
Clear moments are so short. There is much more darkness. More ocean than terra firma. More shadow than form. — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
“But where do we find what's lasting? Where do the deathless things hide?” — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
Once in a while it vanishes - in the sense that I become deaf to beauty for a week or two or three. This… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
“Epithalamium Without silence there would be no music. Life paired is doubtless more difficult than solitary existence - just as a boat on the… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
“- Everything's finished. Riders gallop black horses, a tyrant composes a sentence of death with grammatical errors. Youth dissolves in a day; girls' faces… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
Gabriel Levin's book is a journey through time and through entrenched animosities of the Middle East. What's astonishing and refreshing is his ability to… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
Read for yourselves, read for the sake of your inspiration, for the sweet turmoil in your lovely head. But also read against yourselves, read… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
Cities at daybreak are no one's, and have no names. And I, too, have no name, dawn, the stars growing pale, the train picking… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
“Read for yourselves, read for the sake of your inspiration, for the sweet turmoil in your lovely head. But also read against yourselves, read… — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
This day's nothingness as if from spite became a flame and scorched the lips of children and poets. — Adam Zagajewski Copy Share Image
