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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.
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
Intellectual
Resting
Lucky
Traveller
Emotion
Detachment
Night
Relax
Believe
Believes
Tipsy
Men
Luxury
Stifled
Like
Emotions
Wayside
Committed
Inns
More quotes by Alexander Pushkin
Moscow... how many strains are fusing in that one sound, for Russian hearts! What store of riches it imparts!
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Please, never despise the translator. He's the mailman of human civilization.
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It is better to have dreamed a thousand dreams that never were than never to have dreamed at all.
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Unrequited love is not an affront to man but raises him.
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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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My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?
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The less we show our love to a woman, Or please her less, and neglect our duty, The more we trap and ruin her surely, In the flattering toils of philandery.
Alexander Pushkin
With womankind, the less we love them, the easier they become to charm.
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Habit is Heaven's own redress: it takes the place of happiness.
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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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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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As long as there is one heart on Earth where I still live, my memory will not die.
Alexander Pushkin
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.
Alexander Pushkin
Cabbage soup and barley. They're Russia's national food. Both excellent in their way, but a shade monotonous.
Alexander Pushkin
I loved you: and, it may be, from my soul The former love has never gone away, But let it not recall to you my dole I wish not sadden you in any way. I loved you silently, without hope, fully, In diffidence, in jealousy, in pain I loved you so tenderly and truly, As let you else be loved by any man.
Alexander Pushkin
A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.
Alexander Pushkin
'Tis time, my friend, 'tis time! For rest the heart is aching Days follow days in flight, and every day is taking, Fragments of being, while together you and I, Make plans to live. Look, all is dust, and we shall die.
Alexander Pushkin
Mistress-like, its brilliance vain, highly capricious and inane.
Alexander Pushkin
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.
Alexander Pushkin