Alexander Povolotsky :
Hero is a person, who failed to find anyone to hide behind his back.
Soundly unlucky loser is unlucky even in his sleep.
Geniuses are counted by single digit numbers, while mediocrities are countless.
Even one, born in the jacket, may end his life in the rags of a beggar.
Man, who came down to the point, no longer wants to change the world.
While crossing the field of life do not expect to see the note: 'Checked, there are no mines.'
Material wealth multiplies by its accumulation, while spiritual - by its distribution.
From the perspective of a miser, life is a waste of money.
Nobody mows the grass of oblivion.
Envy has a sideways glance and a wry smile.
If you are lost, do not try to find yourself in others.
It is better to fancy self as an unrecognized genius rather than to be considered as a qualified idiot.
All vices of a 'son of a bitch' are stemmed from his fatherlessness.
The smaller the content, the more the plasticity of the form.
The well-known aphorisms come only from the narrow circle of known persons.
The fish rots from the head, while Civilization - in its art.
Life is a spoiled roulette, where the ball, no matter how to spin it, always falls on the zero mark.
Sisyphus also worked tirelessly.
Woe is just badly forgotten happiness.
Last precaution - it is when someone throws himself into the abyss, wearing a stone around his neck.
Odysseus returned home because he had nowhere else to go.
While soul searching do not try to talk heart to heart with a zombie...
The authenticity of gold could be tested on any tooth, while the truth of life - only by the tooth of wisdom.
Baggage of conscience can not be put into the storage chamber before entering the gates of paradise.
The problem with what end, obtuse or acute, it is better to break the egg, is not worthy of this very damn egg.
When someone's soul aches like from a cat scratching, that someone wants to howl like a wolf.
Perfection of the scoundrel is evaluated by the measure of his completeness.
The indigent one never tastes the bitterness of loss.
Usually people do not forget what really would be good to forget - instead, they forget what it would be advisable to remember.
Moral values have a rather low price, but there are always for sale and also they are sold at a large discount.
If fortune turned her back on you, it just means that she wants to change the pose.
Deep thought - it is like the water in the sea: some are drowning in it, while others just float on the surface.
Moony - is a person for whom there is no place under the sun.
The use of poor-quality spiritual food poisons the soul.
Life is a gift that in the future must be sent back.
Anyone, who asks too many questions, will answer for it.
In the Kingdom of Crooked Mirrors, things went awry.
The doctor prescribed the patient eternal rest.
People have mastered the skill of breaking hearts much earlier, before they have learned how to split the atomic nucleus.
In the East, it is a shame to expose the body, and in the West - the soul.
For his intellectual superiority one pays by his loneliness.
'There is only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous' and there is just one fall from a high stand to low.
One was considered as an insignificant talent - though he was a connoisseur of science of 'small quantities'.
The sum of mediocrities does not add up to being great.
The torch of Truth shines warmth of his inner light, while everything else is capable only of the cold reflection.
Some ask questions to learn more, others - to be recognized.
If the 'Maiden of love' would not melt, she would become the Snow Queen.
Do not halloo with a cuckoo.
The verdict of the destiny is final and is not appealable.
Achilles, do not get up on pointe!
Gray dove 'faded' out of the nest... and became blue.
One can earn credibility just by theft.
Happiness is awaited, while misfortune comes without invitation.
We expect happiness like manna from heaven, while trouble is falling like snow on the head.
Some memories connect us to people from the past as a bridge, while other separates as a wall.
'Lips of infant speaketh the truth, ' but this truth is usually taken as sophomoric...
Modern science recognizes the existence of laws of nature, but it denies the existence of their legislator.
Man lost in a fantasy world, eats fruits of his own imagination.
The last desire of a clown - to make Death laugh.
In Tatar-Mongols language darkness means ten thousand, while in Russia it has no number.
In love, as in politics, elected are praised, but, for some reason, only in politics they talk about re-elected.
There are always less pearls than pigs.
Do not look for a double bottom in flat thoughts.
Integrity - is a burden from which, if one carries it, it is difficult to get rid of.
Sometimes we passionately want to be understood by others, but more often - we dread it.
As Caesar should behave, there are many different opinions, but all agree that Caesar's wife must be above the slightest suspicion.
To the question: 'How to establish paternity at the Immaculate Conception? ' - Science responds with the rhetorical question: 'Only God knows! '.
One can outdo himself only by transgressing over his dead body.
The speed of time is dimensionless and, therefore, is absolutely relative.
To look younger than his age, one just have to fly in a dream with a speed close to the speed of light.
Set aside the concern about the future until tomorrow.
The Force of Destiny does not obey Newton's law.
Those who live life looking back, do not see the future ahead.
As it may sound absurd, the way of life - is the distance, measured in years of experience.
The nature protects human from unnecessary suffering, giving them the opportunity to forget the past, and by not giving them an opportunity to see the future.
Man grows over itself, rising up to the sky on stairs of good deeds.
Carmen seduced Toreador and, since then, for Circe of all kinds - preying on Bullfighters was very enviable.
We all to Esmeraldas sincerely swear in love to the grave but have chosen wives of Flor de Lis' type.
We can not say that slutty was Carmen, but always wind of change blew into her sails.
Not surprisingly, the bitten to death themes are often sore ones.
One may suffer even not being in love, because even sense of humor at times may not be shareable.
Dreams are given to man in order to emphasize the emptiness of real life.
When dreams are more interesting than life - it is a symptom of unhappiness.
Love's blasphemy is above all religions.
The fate of men's is ruled by Rock:
Love as the everything else has a stamp of expiration.
Weeds grow in wastelands of the intellectual impotence verbiage.
Human life is akin to a business trip, it is a trifle, empty trash,
where the length between the arrival and departure are counted in the Heavenly Office as one day only.
John Milton :
She, as a veil down to the slender waist,
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied
Subjection, but required with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best received,
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
Nor those mysterious parts were then concealed:
Then was not guilty shame: dishonest Shame
Of Nature's works, Honour dishonourable.
[John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. Paradise Lost (l. Bk. IV, l. 304-314).
OBS. The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.]
Anne Sexton :
The hat I was married in,
will it do?
White, broad, fake flowers in a tiny array.
It's old-fashioned, as stylish as a bedbug,
but it suits to die in something nostalgic.
[Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "Clothes."]
Anne Sexton :
And I threw a little earth
on the pink coffin
covered by the fake plastic grass
and said O.K., God,
if it's the end of the world,
it must be necessary.
[Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "The Sea Corpse."]
Samuel Taylor Coleridge :
And what if all of animated nature
Be but organic Harps diversely framed,
That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps
Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,
At once the Soul of each, and God of all?
[Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), British poet. The Eolian Harp (l. 45-49). . .
Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and John Hollander, general eds. (1973) Oxford University Press (Also published as six paperback vols.: Medieval English Literature, J. B. Trapp, ed.; The Literature of Renaissance England, John Hollander and Frank Kermode, eds.; The Restoration and the Eighteenth Century, Martin Price, ed.; Romantic Poetry and Prose, Harold Bloom and Lionel Trilling, eds.; Victorian Prose and Poetry, Lionel Trilling and Harold Bloom, eds.; Modern British Literature, Frank Kermode and John Hollander, eds.).]
Marge Piercy :
The token woman carries a bouquet of hothouse celery
and a stenographer's pad; she will take
the minutes, perk the coffee, smile
like a plastic daisy and put out
the black cat of her sensuous anger
to howl on the fence all night.
[Marge Piercy (b. 1936), U.S. poet, novelist, and political activist. "The Token Woman," lines 4-9 (1976).]
Calder Willingham :
Mr. Maguire: I just want to say one word to you. Just one word.
Benjamin: Yes, sir.
Mr. Maguire: Are you listening?
Benjamin: Yes, I am.
Mr. Maguire: Plastics.
[Calder Willingham (1923-1995), U.S. screenwriter, and Buck Henry (b. 1930), U.S. screenwriter. Mr. Maguire (Walter Brooke), Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman), The Graduate, at Benjamin's college graduation party (1967).]
William Butler Yeats :
A sweetheart from another life floats there
As though she had been forced to linger
From vague distress
Or arrogant loveliness,
Merely to loosen out a tress
Among the starry eddies of her hair....
[William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "An Image from a Past Life."]
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William Butler Yeats :
Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
[William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Irish poet, playwright. "He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes."]
Seamus Heaney :
What blazed ahead of you? A faked road block?
The red lamp swung, the sudden brakes and stalling
Engine, voices, heads hooded and the cold-nosed gun?
[Seamus Heaney (b. 1939), Irish poet, critic. The Strand at Lough Beg (l. 9-11). . .
Selected Poems 1966-1987 [Seamus Heaney]. (1990) Farrar, Straus and Giroux.]
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