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At the moment of childbirth, every woman has the same aura of isolation, as though she were abandoned, alone.

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
Isolation
Abandoned
Alone
Though
Moment
Woman
Aura
Moments
Auras
Every
Childbirth

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The most extraordinary discoveries are made when the artist is overwhelmed by what he has to say.
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The last moments slipped by, one by one, irretrievable.
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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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Oh, how one wishes sometimes to escape from the meaningless dullness of human eloquence, from all those sublime phrases, to take refuge in nature, apparently so inarticulate, or in the wordlessness of long, grinding labor, of sound sleep, of true music, or of a human understanding rendered speechless by emotion!
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No bad man can be a good poet.
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Immensely grateful, touched, proud, astonished, abashed.
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As before the collapse, the setting sun brushed the tiles, brought out the warm brown glow on the wallpaper, and hung the shadow of the birch on the wall as if it were a woman's scarf.
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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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What is laid down, ordered, factual is never enough to embrace the whole truth: life always spills over the rim of every cup.
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Good-bye... why am I hemorrhaging ?
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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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Art is interested in life at the moment when the ray of power is passing through it.
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The whole wide world is a cathedral I stand inside, the air is calm, And from afar at times there reaches My ear the echo of a psalm.
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The whole of life is symbolic because the whole of it has meaning.
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Art always serves beauty, and beauty is the joy of possessing form, and form is the key to organic life since no living thing can exist without it.
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Salvation lies not in the faithfulness to forms, but in the liberation from them.
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She was here on earth to make sense of its wild enchantments.
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