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No day copies yesterday, no two nights will teach what bliss is in precisely the same way, with precisely the same kisses.
Wislawa Szymborska
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Wislawa Szymborska
Age: 88 †
Born: 1923
Born: July 2
Died: 2012
Died: February 1
Critic
Essayist
Literary Critic
Mechanic
Poet
Translator
Writer
Kornik
Maria Wisława Anna Szymborska
Szymborska
Night
Kisses
Two
Nights
Way
Copies
Precisely
Bliss
Yesterday
Kissing
Teach
More quotes by Wislawa Szymborska
Such certainty is beautiful, but uncertainty is more beautiful still
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Carry on, then, if only for the moment that it takes a tiny galaxy to blink!
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I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
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Get to know other worlds, if only for comparison.
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God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.
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I slide my arm from under the sleeper's head and it is numb, full of swarming pins, on the tip of each, waiting to be counted, the fallen angels sit.
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It's a well-known fact: in order to follow doctor's orders, you have to be healthy as a horse.
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I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.
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History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, as though the one had never existed: an imaginary embryo, an empty cradle, ... emptiness running down steps toward the garden, nobody's place in line.
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Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice.
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Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice?
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I'm drowning in papers.
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When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past. When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it.
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There is so much Everything that Nothing is hidden quite nicely
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The joy of writing. The power of preserving. Revenge of a mortal hand.
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Any knowledge that doesn't lead to new questions quickly dies out: it fails to maintain the temperature required for sustaining life.
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Four billion people on this earth, but my imagination is still the same. It's bad with large numbers. It's still taken by particularity. It flits in the dark like a flashlight, illuminating only random faces while all the rest go blindly by, never coming to mind and never really missed. . . . I can't tell you how much I pass over in silence.
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I'm old-fashioned and think that reading books is the most glorious pastime that humankind has yet devised.
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Whatever inspiration is, it's born from a continuous I don't know.
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Nothing's a gift, it's all on loan
Wislawa Szymborska
