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I have been writing in spurts, bit by bit. It is incredibly difficult. Everything is corroded, broken, dismantled everything is covered with hardened layers of accumulated insensitivity, deafness, entrenched routine. It is disgusting.

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
Incredibly
Insensitivity
Covered
Entrenched
Broken
Deafness
Bits
Accumulated
Difficult
Hardened
Everything
Disgusting
Corroded
Writing
Layers
Spurts
Routine
Dismantled

More quotes by Boris Pasternak

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If you want to know, life is the principle of self-renewal, it is constantly renewing and remaking and changing and transfiguring itself.
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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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During the last years of Mayakovski's life, when all poetry had ceased to exist . . . literature had stopped.
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And when the war broke out, its real horrors, its real dangers, its menace of real death were a blessing compared with the inhuman reign of the lie, and they brought relief because they broke the spell of the dead letter.
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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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I don't like purely philosophical works. I think a little philosophy should be added to life and art by way of seasoning, but to make it one's specialty seems to me as strange as eating nothing but horseradish. - Lara, from Doctor Zhivago
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The last moments slipped by, one by one, irretrievable.
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Work is the order of the day, just as it was at one time, with our first starts and our best efforts. Do you remember? Therein lies its delight. It brings back the forgotten one's stores of energy, seemingly exhausted, come back to life.
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That's metaphysics, my dear fellow. It's forbidden me by my doctor, my stomach won't take it.
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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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Love is not weakness. It is strong. Only the sacrament of marriage can contain it.
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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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No bad man can be a good poet.
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How many things in the world deserve our loyalty? Very few indeed. I think one should be loyal to immortality, which is another word for life, a stronger word for it.
Boris Pasternak
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As in an explosion, I would erupt with all the wonderful things I saw and understood in this world.
Boris Pasternak
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And so it turned out that only a life similar to the life of those around us, merging with it without a ripple, is genuine life, and that an unshared happiness is not happiness.
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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!
Boris Pasternak
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An unshared happiness is not happiness.
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I am alone all drowns in the Pharisees' hypocrisy. To live your life is not as simple as to cross a field.
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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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