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Cabbage soup and barley. They're Russia's national food. Both excellent in their way, but a shade monotonous.
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
Russia
National
Food
Barley
Way
Cabbage
Monotonous
Soup
Shade
Excellent
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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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My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?
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Moral maxims are surprisingly useful on occasions when we can invent little else to justify our actions.
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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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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.
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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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