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Then came a moment of renaissance, I looked up - you again are there, A fleeting vision, the quintessence Of all that`s beautiful and rare.

Alexander Pushkin

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Alexander Pushkin
Age: 37 †
Born: 1799
Born: June 6
Died: 1837
Died: February 10
Author
Book Collector
Dramaturge
Essayist
Historian
Librettist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Opinion Journalist
Playwright
Moscow
Russian SFSR
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin
Aleksandr Pushkin
Aleksandr Serge'evich Pushkin
Pushkin
Moment
Moments
Quintessence
Beautiful
Renaissance
Fleeting
Rare
Looked
Vision
Came

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As long as there is one heart on Earth where I still live, my memory will not die.
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I was not born to amuse the Tsars.
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Ballet is a dance executed by the human soul.
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Love passed, the Muse appeared, the weather of mind got clarity new-found now free, I once more weave together emotion, thought, and magic sound.
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Try to be forgotten. Go live in the country. Stay in mourning for two years, then remarry, but choose somebody decent.
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Thank you, darling, for learning to play chess. It is an absolute necessity for any well organized family. (in a letter to his wife)
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My whole life has been pledged to this meeting with you.
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Habit is Heaven's own redress: it takes the place of happiness.
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With womankind, the less we love them, the easier they become to charm.
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Inspiration is needed in geometry, just as much as in poetry.
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In this, our age of infamy Man's choice is but to be A tyrant, traitor, prisoner: No other choice has he.
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I’ve lived to bury my desires, And see my dreams corrode with rust Now all that’s left are fruitless fires That burn my empty heart to dust.
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To love all ages yield surrender But to the young it's raptures bring A blessing bountiful and tender- As storms refresh the fields of spring.
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Sad that our finest aspiration, Our freshest dreams and meditations, In swift succession should decay, Like Autumn leaves that rot away.
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Write for pleasure and publish for money.
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Play interests me very much, said Hermann: but I am not in the position to sacrifice the necessary in the hope of winning the superfluous.
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I loved you even now I may confess, Some embers of my love their fire retain But do not let it cause you more distress, I do not want to sadden you again. Hopeless and tongue tied, yet I loved you dearly With pangs the jealous and the timid know So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely, I pray God grant another love you so.
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It's a lucky man, a very lucky man, who is committed to what he believes, who has stifled intellectual detachment and can relax in the luxury of his emotions - like a tipsy traveller resting for the night at wayside inn.
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Cabbage soup and barley. They're Russia's national food. Both excellent in their way, but a shade monotonous.
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Fearing no insult, asking for no crown, receive with indifference both flattery and slander, and do not argue with a fool.
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