Alexander Pushkin Quotes

A Man Who's Active And Incisive Can Yet Keep Nail-care Much In Mind: Why Fight What's Known To Be Decisive? Custom Is Despot Of Mankind.

There Yet Remains But One Concluding Tale, And Then This Chronicle Of Mine Is Ended - Fulfilled, The Duty God Ordained To Me, A Sinner. Not Without Purpose Did The Lord, Put Me To Witness Much For Many Years, And Educate Me In The Love Of Books. One Day Some Indefatigable Monk, Will Find My Conscientious, Unsigned Work; Like Me, He Will Light Up His Ikon-lamp, And, Shaking From The Scroll The Age-old Dust, He Will Transcribe These Tales In All Their Truth.

Cabbage Soup And Barley. They're Russia's National Food. Both Excellent In Their Way, But A Shade Monotonous.

Mistress-like, Its Brilliance Vain, Highly Capricious And Inane.

But Even Friendship Like Our Heroes' Exist No More; For We've Outgrown All Sentiments And Deem Men Zeroes-- Except Of Course Ourselves Alone. We All Take On Napoleon's Features, And Millions Of Our Fellow Creatures Are Nothing More To Us Than Tools... Since Feelings Are For Freaks And Fools. Eugene, Of Course, Had Keen Perceptions And On The Whole Despised Mankind, Yet Wasn't, Like So Many, Blind; And Since Each Rule Permits Exceptions, He Did Respect A Noble Few, And, Cold Himself, Gave Warmth Its Due.

I Do Not Like Moscow Life. You Live Here Not As You Want To Live, But As Old Women Want You To.

Thank You, Darling, For Learning To Play Chess. It Is An Absolute Necessity For Any Well Organized Family. (in A Letter To His Wife)

Sad That Our Finest Aspiration, Our Freshest Dreams And Meditations, In Swift Succession Should Decay, Like Autumn Leaves That Rot Away.

'tis Time, My Friend, 'tis Time! For Rest The Heart Is Aching; Days Follow Days In Flight, And Every Day Is Taking, Fragments Of Being, While Together You And I, Make Plans To Live. Look, All Is Dust, And We Shall Die.

I've Lived To Bury My Desires And See My Dreams Corrode With Rust Now All That's Left Are Fruitless Fires That Burn My Empty Heart To Dust. Struck By The Clouds Of Cruel Fate My Crown Of Summer Bloom Is Sere Alone And Sad, I Watch And Wait And Wonder If The End Is Near. As Conquered By The Last Cold Air When Winter Whistles In The Wind Alone Upon A Branch That's Bare A Trembling Leaf Is Left Behind.

My Dreams, My Dreams! What Has Become Of Their Sweetness? What Indeed Has Become Of My Youth?

Play Interests Me Very Much," Said Hermann: "but I Am Not In The Position To Sacrifice The Necessary In The Hope Of Winning The Superfluous.