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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
Worked
Lifted
Flower
Stopping
Early
Cheer
Honeysuckle
Worth
Possess
Envying
Happy
Appreciation
Joyfulness
Earth
Flowers
Thankfulness
Wanted
Gratitude
Fog
Thing
Garden
Cheerfulness

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For a country without a past is nothing, a word That, hardly spoken, loses its meaning, A perishable wall destroyed by flame, An echo of animal emotions.
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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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The true enemy of man is generalization.
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I think that I am here, on this earth, to present a report on it, but to whom I don't know. As if I were sent so that whatever takes place has meaning because it changes into memory.
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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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Human reason is beautiful and invincible. No bars, no barbed wire, no pulping of books, No sentence of banishment can prevail against it. It puts what should be above things as they are. It does not know Jew from Greek nor slave from master.
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The soul exceeds its circumstances.
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The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.
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We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.
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All of us yearn for the highest wisdom, but we have to rely on ourselves in the end.
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On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
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You see how I try To reach with words What matters most And how I fail.
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When I curse Fate, it's not me, but the earth in me.
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A man should not love the moon. An ax should not lose weight in his hand. His garden should smell of rotting apples, And grow a fair amount of nettles.
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A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death.
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At every sunrise I renounce the doubts of night and greet the new day of a most precious delusion.
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What is poetry which does not save nations or people?
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Forget the suffering You caused others. Forget the suffering Others caused you. The waters run and run, Springs sparkle and are done, You walk the earth you are forgetting.
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In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.
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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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