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A day so happy. Fog lifted early. I worked in the garden. Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers. There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess. I know no one worth my envying him.

Czeslaw Milosz

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Czeslaw Milosz
Age: 93 †
Born: 1911
Born: June 30
Died: 2004
Died: August 14
Diplomat
Essayist
Pedagogue
Poet
Translator
University Teacher
Writer
Clarksburg
West Virginia
Miłosz
Czelaw Milosz
Thing
Garden
Cheerfulness
Worked
Lifted
Flower
Stopping
Early
Cheer
Honeysuckle
Worth
Possess
Envying
Happy
Appreciation
Joyfulness
Earth
Flowers
Thankfulness
Wanted
Gratitude
Fog

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The living owe it to those who no longer can speak to tell their story for them.
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The purpose of poetry is to remind us / how difficult it is to remain just one person.
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What is this enigmatic impulse that does not allow one to settle down in the achieved, the finished? I think it is a quest for reality.
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I was left behind with the immensity of existing things. A sponge, suffering because it cannot saturate itself a river, suffering because reflections of clouds and trees are not clouds and trees.
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I am composed of contradictions, which is why poetry is a better form for me than philosophy
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A weak human mercy walks in the corridors of hospitals and is like a half-thawed winter.
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