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On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.

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
Clover
Clovers
Fisherman
Bees
Circles
Ends
World
Mends
Glimmering

More quotes by Czeslaw Milosz

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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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Consciousness even in my sleep changes primary colors. The features of my face melt like a wax doll in the fire. And who can consent to see in the mirror the mere face of man?
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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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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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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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If I am all mankind, are they themselves without me?
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I imagine the earth when I am no more: Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley. Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born, Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.
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It is sweet to think I was a companion in an expedition that never ends
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Men will clutch at illusions when they have nothing else to hold to.
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Language is the only homeland.
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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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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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The true enemy of man is generalization.
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A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death.
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I have no wisdom, no skills, and no faith but I received strength, it tears the world apart. I shall break, a heavy wave, against its shores and a young wave will cover my trace.
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Be young forever, seasons of the earth.
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What has no shadow has no strength to live.
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All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence.
Czeslaw Milosz
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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?
Czeslaw Milosz