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Love is not weakness. It is strong. Only the sacrament of marriage can contain it.

Boris Pasternak

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Boris Pasternak
Age: 70 †
Born: 1890
Born: February 10
Died: 1960
Died: May 30
Novelist
Pianist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
Translator
Writer
Moscow
Russian SFSR
Holiwis
Boris Leonidovich Pasternak
Strong
Love
Sacrament
Anniversary
Sacraments
Contain
Weakness
Marriage

More quotes by Boris Pasternak

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Only the solitary seek the truth, and they break with all those who don't love it sufficiently
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Oh, what a love it was, utterly free, unique, like nothing else on earth! Their thoughts were like other people's songs.
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You are eternity's hostage A captive of mine.
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A conscious attempt to fall asleep is sure to produce insomnia, to try to be conscious of one's own digestion is a sure way to upset the stomach. Consciousness is a poison when we apply it to ourselves. Consciousness is a light directed outward. it's like the headlights on a locomotive—turn them inward and you'd have a crash.
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In life it is more necessary to lose than to gain. A seed will only germinate if it dies.
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No single man makes history. History cannot be seen just as one cannot see grass growing.
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Farewell, my great one, my own, farewell, my pride, farewell, my swift, deep, dear river, how I loved your daylong splashing, how I loved to plunge into your cold waves.
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Salvation lies not in the faithfulness to forms, but in the liberation from them.
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I love you wildly, insanely, infinitely.
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When a great moment knocks on the door of your life, it is often no louder than the beating of your heart, and it is very easy to miss it.
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Immensely grateful, touched, proud, astonished, abashed.
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... the unarmed power of naked truth.
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No bad man can be a good poet.
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It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table A candle burned.
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Good-bye... why am I hemorrhaging ?
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She was here on earth to make sense of its wild enchantments.
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To be a woman is a great adventure To drive men mad is a heroic thing.
Boris Pasternak
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The last moments slipped by, one by one, irretrievable.
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Art has two constant, two unending concerns: It always meditates on death and thus always creates life. All great, genuine art resembles and continues the Revelation of St John.
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As in an explosion, I would erupt with all the wonderful things I saw and understood in this world.
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