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All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence.

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
Existence
Taken
White
Away
Even
Dresses
Wings

More quotes by Czeslaw Milosz

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What has no shadow has no strength to live.
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The soul exceeds its circumstances.
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The partition separating life from death is so tenuous. The unbelievable fragility of our organism suggests a vision on a screen: a kind of mist condenses itself into a human shape, lasts a moment and scatters.
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Men will clutch at illusions when they have nothing else to hold to.
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The revolt against one's environment is usually 'shame' of one's environment.
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I liked beaches, swimming pools, and clinics for there they were the bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. I pitied them and myself, but this will not protect me. The word and the thought are over.
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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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What is poetry which does not save nations or people?
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Be young forever, seasons of the earth.
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The true enemy of man is generalization.
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If I am all mankind, are they themselves without me?
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It was only toward the middle of the twentieth century that the inhabitants of many European countries came, in general unpleasantly, to the realization that their fate could be influenced directly by intricate and abstruse books of philosophy.
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Do not feel safe. The poet remembers. You can kill one, but another is born. The words are written down, the deed, the date.
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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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A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death.
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Even if that is so, there will remain A word wakened by lips that perish, A tireless messenger who runs and runs Through interstellar fields, through the revolving galaxies, And calls out, protests, screams.
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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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On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
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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.
Czeslaw Milosz