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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
Dresses
Wings
Existence
Taken
White
Away
Even

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Poetry is a dividend from what you know and what you are.
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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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We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.
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Men will clutch at illusions when they have nothing else to hold to.
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It is sweet to think I was a companion in an expedition that never ends
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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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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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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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All of us yearn for the highest wisdom, but we have to rely on ourselves in the end.
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The revolt against one's environment is usually 'shame' of one's environment.
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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 history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.
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From life, from the apple cut by the flaming knife, what grain will be saved? My son, believe me, nothing remains, Only adult toil, the furrow of fate in the palm. Only toil, Nothing more.
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What has no shadow has no strength to live.
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The true enemy of man is generalization.
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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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I am composed of contradictions, which is why poetry is a better form for me than philosophy
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What is poetry which does not save nations or people?
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The soul exceeds its circumstances.
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Be young forever, seasons of the earth.
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