Alexander Pushkin
Alexander Pushkin
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin; 6 June 1799 – 10 February 1837) was a Russian poet, playwright, and novelist of the Romantic era who is considered by many to be the greatest Russian poet and the founder of modern Russian literature...
NationalityRussian
ProfessionAuthor
Date of Birth6 June 1799
CityMoscow, Russia
CountryRussian Federation
littles our-actions moral
Moral maxims are surprisingly useful on occasions when we can invent little else to justify our actions.
sacrifice winning play
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.
flames reason beats
If you but knew the flames that burn in me which I attempt to beat down with my reason.
good-friend people ennui
Thus people--so it seems to me-- Become good friends from sheer ennui.
illusion thousand ten
Better the illusions that exalt us than ten thousand truths.
deception host lows
A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.
want study language
I want to understand you, I study your obscure language.
believe night men
It's a lucky man, a very lucky man, who is committed to what he believes, who has stifled intellectual detachment and can relax in the luxury of his emotions - like a tipsy traveller resting for the night at wayside inn.
beautiful famous-love vision
Then came a moment of renaissance, I looked up - you again are there, A fleeting vision, the quintessence Of all that`s beautiful and rare.
memories heart long
As long as there is one heart on Earth where I still live, my memory will not die.
inspirational obsession impulse
Somewhere between obsession and compulsion is impulse.
love jealous fire
I loved you; even now I may confess, Some embers of my love their fire retain; But do not let it cause you more distress, I do not want to sadden you again. Hopeless and tongue tied, yet I loved you dearly With pangs the jealous and the timid know; So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely, I pray God grant another love you so.
dream failure heart
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.
our-love ruins toil
The less we show our love to a woman, Or please her less, and neglect our duty, The more we trap and ruin her surely In the flattering toils of philandery.