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They used to pour millet on graves or poppy seeds To feed the dead who would come disguised as birds. I put this book here for you, who once lived So that you should visit us no more.
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
MiĆosz
Czelaw Milosz
Bird
Poppies
Lived
Disguised
Dead
Pour
Used
Visit
Book
Feed
Come
Birds
Would
Graves
Millet
Seeds
Poppy
More quotes by Czeslaw Milosz
When I curse Fate, it's not me, but the earth in me.
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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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If I am all mankind, are they themselves without me?
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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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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.
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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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On the day the world ends A bee circles a clover, A fisherman mends a glimmering net.
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The true enemy of man is generalization.
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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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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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Be young forever, seasons of the earth.
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The revolt against one's environment is usually 'shame' of one's environment.
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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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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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I am composed of contradictions, which is why poetry is a better form for me than philosophy
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You see how I try To reach with words What matters most And how I fail.
Czeslaw Milosz
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.
Czeslaw Milosz
All was taken away from you: white dresses, wings, even existence.
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What has no shadow has no strength to live.
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A true opium of the people is a belief in nothingness after death.
Czeslaw Milosz