Aphorisms and quotes by Marina Tsvetaeva. Quotes and aphorisms of Marina Tsvetaeva Famous quotes of Tsvetaeva

The tragic life and fate of Marina Tsvetaeva amazes to this day. Sometimes you don’t understand how such tests could fall on the fragile shoulders of a beautiful and intelligent woman.

Marina Ivanovna wrote poetry from the age of 6, and her first collection, which attracted the attention of the general public, was published when the girl was only 18 years old. But this was the end of the gifts for a talented woman from fate. Marina Tsvetaeva survived the death of one of her children, the repression of the second and shared exile with the third. The husband was shot at Soviet power on suspicion of espionage. And the woman herself, not tolerating humiliation and shame, hanged herself on a rope that Boris Pasternak gave her on the way so that Marina could tie her suitcases.

Surely all of you at least once in your life have read her beautiful poems, full of incredible lyrics, deep meaning and charm. We invite you to turn your attention to other thoughts of the poetess. She has a myriad of life philosophical quotes, which in some places amaze with their accuracy and depth.

About feelings ...

• You fall in love only with someone else's, dear - you love.
• To love means to see a person the way God intended him and his parents did not fulfill him.
• “I will love you all summer” - this sounds much more convincing than “all my life” and - most importantly - much longer!
• "Tolerate - fall in love." I love this phrase, just the opposite.
• There is no second you on earth.
• Men are not used to pain - like animals. When they are in pain, they immediately have such eyes that you can do anything just to stop.
• Whether to dream together, sleep together, but always cry alone.
• If I love a person, I want him to feel better from me - at least a sewn-on button. From the sewn-on button to my whole soul.
• Humanly, we can sometimes love ten, lovingly - a lot - two. Inhuman - always one.
• If you came in now and said: “I am leaving for a long time, forever,” or: “I think I don’t love you anymore,” I would not seem to feel anything new: every time you leave, every hour when you are not there - you are not forever and you do not love me.
• All women lead to the fogs.

About creativity ...

• Poems themselves are looking for me, and in such an abundance that I don't know directly what to write, what to quit. You can not sit at the table - and suddenly - all the quatrains are ready, while squeezing the last shirt in the wash, or frantically rummaging in a bag, gaining exactly 50 kopecks. And sometimes I write like this: on the right side of the page there are some verses, on the left - others, the hand flies from one place to another, flies across the page: do not forget! catch! hold! .. - not enough hands! Success is to be in time.
• The sculptor is dependent on clay. Artist from paints. Musician from strings. An artist's or a musician's hand may stop. The poet has only a heart.
• The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is that which fell through.
• Creativity is a common cause, done by the solitary.

About life…

• We joke, we joke, but the melancholy grows and grows ...
• What can you know about me, since you did not sleep with me and did not drink?
• I don't want to have a point of view. I want to have eyesight.
• The world has a limited number of souls and an unlimited number of bodies.
• The only thing that people do not forgive is that you, in the end, did without them.
• Favorite things: music, nature, poetry, loneliness. She loved simple and empty places that no one likes. I love physics, its mysterious laws of attraction and repulsion, similar to love and hate.
• My dream: a monastery garden, a library, old wine from the cellar, a long pipe and some seventy-year-old "from the old" who would come in the evenings to listen to what I wrote and say how much he loves me. I wanted to be loved by an old man who loved many. I do not want to be older, sharper. I don't want to be looked up at. I've been waiting for this old man since the age of 14 ...
• If something hurts - be quiet, otherwise they will hit exactly there.
• In one thing, I am a real woman: I judge each and every one for myself, I put my speeches in each mouth, my feelings in the chest. Therefore, I have everything in the first minute: kind, generous, generous, sleepless and insane.
• How much better I can see a person when not with him!
• Listen and remember: everyone who laughs at the misfortune of another is a fool or a scoundrel; most often both.
• Nobody wants - nobody can understand one thing: that I am all alone. Acquaintances and friends - all of Moscow, but not one who is for me - no, without me! - will die.
• Oh my God, but they say that there is no soul! What hurts me now? - Not a tooth, not a head, not a hand, not a chest - no, chest, in the chest, where you breathe - I breathe deeply: it doesn't hurt, but it hurts all the time, it hurts all the time, it's unbearable!
• I want such a modest, deadly simple thing: so that when I enter, the person is happy. Sin is not in darkness, but in unwillingness to light.

In these phrases, one can feel the pain, and the bitterness of things lived in places, and experience, and willpower, and the desire to change the world around me, I did not see only one thing - the happiness of a beautiful woman.

Marina Tsvetaeva - quotes

(born: October 8, 1892, Moscow, Russian empire- died: August 31, 1941, Elabuga, Tatar ASSR, RSFSR, USSR)

Russian poet Silver Age, prose writer, translator.

I constantly want to talk to you.

Women talk about love and are silent about lovers, men - vice versa.

He was like a daisy.
Sometimes he loves, sometimes he does not.

What can you know about me
Since you didn’t sleep with me and didn’t drink?

Here I am not needed, there is impossible.

“I will love you all summer” - this sounds much more convincing than “all my life” and - most importantly - much longer!

Humanly, we can sometimes love ten, lovingly - a lot - two. Inhumanly - always one ...

To love means to see a person the way God intended him and his parents did not fulfill him.

You need to meet for love, for the rest there are books.

The wings are freedom, only when they are open in flight, behind the back they are heaviness.

To love means to see a person the way God intended him and his parents did not fulfill him.

If something hurts - be quiet, otherwise they will hit exactly there.

Distance: versts, miles ... we were set apart, seated so that we could behave quietly on two different ends of the earth.

I feel bad with people, because they prevent me from listening to my soul or just silence.

People with this fatal gift of unhappy - the only - all taken over - love - just a genius for inappropriate objects!

The head is so charmingly empty
Because the heart is too full!

Loud laughter cannot hide the wild pain.

Our best words- intonation.

If you came in now and said: “I am leaving for a long time, forever,” or: “I think I don’t love you anymore,” I would not seem to feel anything new: every time you leave, every hour when you are not there - you are not forever and you do not love me.

Know one thing: that tomorrow you will be old
Forget the rest, baby.

There is no second you on earth.

... And if the heart, breaking,
Removes stitches without medicine, -
Know that there is a head from the heart,
And there is an ax - from the head ...

I love you all my life and every hour.
But I don't need your lips and eyes.
It all began - and ended - without you.

When I don’t love, it’s not me ... I’m not me for so long ...

Love is too much - cuts like an ax!

All women lead to the fogs.

If I love a person, I want him to feel better from me - at least a sewn-on button. From the sewn-on button to my whole soul.

No passion will outshout justice in me. To hurt another, no, a thousand times, it is better to endure yourself. I am not a winner. I myself am on trial, my court is stricter than yours, I do not love myself, I do not spare.

I want such a modest, deadly simple thing: so that when I enter, the person is happy.

If you are shouting "Fool!" Behind you, then this is not a reason to look back.

In love, I knew only one thing: to suffer wildly and sing!

Don't be ashamed, country Russia!
Angels are always barefoot ..

"Beloved! - theatrical, "lover" - frankly, "friend" - indefinitely. Unloving country! "

The only thing that people do not forgive is that you, in the end, did without them.

Not a single person, even the most detached, is free from the joy of being something (everything!) In someone's life, especially when it is involuntary.

My soul is losing its head.

Goddesses married gods, gave birth to heroes, and loved shepherds.

When love dies, it is impossible to resurrect it. There remains emptiness, boredom and indifference. You cannot kill love - it dies by itself, leaving bare ashes and a terrible inexpressible insult, an insult to the one who caused this love in us, but did not preserve it, could not ...

I HURT, you know? I am a skinned man, and you are all in armor. All of you: art, society, friendship, entertainment, family, duty - I have, to the depth, NOTHING.

It is impossible for what was shaky sadness, Say: “Be passion! Burning madness, rday! " Your love was such a mistake - But without love we die. Wizard!

I bless you on all four sides.

I'm waiting for the one who is the first
Will understand me as it should -
And it will shoot at close range.

My soul is monstrously jealous: it would not have endured me as a beauty.
Talking about appearance in my cases is unreasonable: the matter is so obvious, and so much - not in her!
- "How do you like her externally?" - Does she want to be liked outwardly? Yes, I just do not give the right to this - to such an assessment!
I am me: and the hair is me, and my man's hand with square fingers is me, and my humped nose is me. And, more precisely: neither the hair is me, nor the hand, nor the nose: I - I: invisible.

Have I stopped loving you? No. You have not changed and I have not changed. One thing has changed: my painful focus on you. You have not ceased to exist for me, I have ceased to exist in you. My hour with you is over, my eternity remains with you.

When I stop waiting for you
Love, hope and believe
Then I'll close tightly the windows, doors
And I'll just lie down to die ...

I want you to love all of me, all that I am, all that I am! This is the only way to be loved or not be loved.

Be the one I didn't dare to be:
Do not ruin his dreams with fear!
Be the one I could not be to him:
Love without measure and love to the end!

I recognize love by the pain of the whole body along.

I need to be loved in a completely extraordinary way in order for me to believe.

Ah, far from the sky!
Lips - close in the darkness ...
- God, do not judge! - You were not
A woman on earth!

Oh my God, but they say that there is no soul! What hurts me now? - Not a tooth, not a head, not a hand, not a chest - no, chest, in the chest, where you breathe - I breathe deeply: it doesn't hurt, but it hurts all the time, it hurts all the time, it's unbearable!

Sin is not in darkness, but in unwillingness to light.

I didn’t know where you were, but I was in the same place where you were, and since I didn’t know where you were, I didn’t know where I was - but I knew that I was with you.

"Tolerate - fall in love." I love this phrase, just the opposite.

Betrayal already indicates love. You can't betray a friend.

Each book is a theft from one's own life. The more you read, the less you know how and you want to live on your own.

You, who loved me with the false truth and the truth of lies,
You, who loved me nowhere else, abroad,
You, who loved me longer than time, wave your right hands,
You don't love me anymore - the truth in five words!

Wanting is a matter of bodies
And we are souls for each other ...

Not a single person has yet judged the sun for the fact that it shines on another ...

Tsvetaeva: - A man never wants the first. If the man wanted, the woman already wants.
Antokolsky: - And what will we do with tragic love? When does a woman - really - not want to?
Tsvetaeva: - So, she didn't want to, but some one nearby. Wrong door.

There are strange words for the simplest things ... But for now, you will think of simplicity ...

You don't make me happier, you make me smarter.

Every time I find out that a person loves me - I am surprised, does not love me - I am surprised, but most of all I am surprised when a person is indifferent to me.

Love is a strange thing: it feeds on hunger and dies from food.

The whole point is that we love, that our heart beats - at least it breaks to smithereens! I was always smashed to smithereens, and all my poems are those same silver bangs of the heart.

All rooms are black at night
Every voice is dark at night
all the beauties of the earthly land
Equally innocently wrong.

You have not stopped loving me (how to cut). You just stopped loving me every minute of your life, and I did the same, obey you, as always.

I am silent, I do not even look at you and I feel that for the first time I am jealous. It is a mixture of pride, offended pride, bitterness, imaginary indifference and deepest indignation.

Men are not used to pain - like animals. When they are in pain, they immediately have such eyes that you can do anything just to stop.

I love you. - Like a thundercloud
Above you - a sin -
For being sarcastic and burning
And best of all ...

Lie. I do not despise myself when I lie, but you, who makes me lie.

Someone's eyes are too tender
in the gentle air, barely heated ...
I'm already getting sick in the summer
barely recovered from the winter.

What can we say about God? Nothing. What can we tell God? Everything.

The pain is called you.

I know my place in life, and it is not the last, because I never stand in a row.

You are the closest to me now, you just hurt me the most.

All my "never" falls off like rotten branches.

Don't be too angry with your parents - remember that they were you and you will be.

I go to bed like a coffin. And every morning - indeed - an uprising from the dead.

Thanks to those who loved me, for they gave me the charm to love others, and thanks to those who did not love me, because they gave me the charm to love - myself.

If there is suicide in this life, it is not where it is seen, and it lasted not pulling the trigger, but twelve years of life.

The soul is a sail. Wind is life.

In a dialogue with life, it is not her question that is important, but our answer.

It's sad to admit, but we are good only with those in whose eyes we can still gain or lose something.

Success is to be in time!

That's all. - How stingy! -
It is stupid to be unhappy.
So, we put a point.

Sometimes silence in a room is like thunder.

Which one is, well, which is March ?!
They smashed us - like a deck of cards!

I am so sorry that all these are just words - love - I cannot do that, I would like a real fire on which they would burn me.

The soul - to the music - wanders. Wandering - changing. All my life is to music.

I live like others dance: to the rapture - to the dizziness - to the nausea!

So, in ... ... Moscow buried alive,
I watch with a thin smile,
As me - even you, who have been loving me for three years! -
Learned to bypass the side.

I need to be loved ... They needed - like bread.

And how not to die a poet
When the poem was successful!

Listen and remember: anyone who laughs at the misfortune of another is a fool or a scoundrel; most often both. When a person gets into a mess, it's not funny; it is not funny when a person is poured with slop; when a person is tripped - it's not funny; when a person is beaten in the face, it is despicable. Such laughter is a sin.

And I will also say tiredly,
- Don't rush to listen! -
That your soul rose to me
Across the soul.

I don't need someone who doesn't need me.
Superfluous to me the one to whom I have nothing to give.

The soul grows from everything, most of all - from losses.

In love, we are deprived of the main thing: the opportunity to tell (show) to another how we suffer from him.

Love: in the winter from the cold, in the summer from the heat, in the spring from the first leaves, in the fall from the last: always from everything.

I want neither love nor honor. - Intoxicating. - Don't be greedy! I don't even want an apple - Seductive - from the tray…. Something to drag a chain behind me, Soon it will begin to thunder like thunder. How I want, How I want - To die little by little!

I know that you need me, otherwise I would not need you.

He tells me charmingly how he doesn't love me. And I - attentively - approving - listen.

I need from a person - necessary: ​​either charm or a big, fully armed, sleepless mind.<...>Outside of this, I am empty with a person. - Better one.

Friend! Indifference is a bad school
It hardens the hearts.

Whether to dream together, sleep together, but always cry alone.

After all, I'm not for life. Everything is on fire! I can lead ten relationships (“relationships” are good!), At once and each, from the deepest depths, assure that he is the only one. And I can't stand the slightest turn of my head away from myself.

Time! I can't keep up.

There are bodies that are remarkably similar to the soul.

There will not even be a void, since I do not occupy any place in your life. As for the "spiritual emptiness", the more the soul is empty, the better it is filled. Only physical emptiness counts. The emptiness of this chair. There will not be a chair in your life that will be empty for me ...

Love not me, but my world.

I forbid you to do what you do not want!

Feel free to give up your seat on the tram.
Feel free - don't give in.

I do not love heroine, I will never go into a lover, always into love.

If I look at you, it does not mean that I see you!

When I try to live, I feel like a poor little seamstress who can never do a beautiful thing, who only does what spoils and injures herself, and who, throwing away everything: scissors, fabric, threads, begins to sing. By the window behind which it rains endlessly.

Heart - of love potions
The potion is the truest of all.
Woman from the cradle
Someone's mortal sin.

The immensity of my words is only a faint shadow of the immensity of my feelings.

It is better to lose a person with all of you than to keep him with some of your hundredth.
(It is better to lose a person with all your essence than with one edge.)

I am not listening to music, listening to my soul.

I am the shadow of someone's shadow ...

The first victory of a woman over a man is the man's story about his love for another. And her final victory is the story of this other about her love for him, about his love for her. The secret has become clear, your love is mine. And while this is not there, you cannot sleep well.

Before everything that I loved was called - me, now - you. But it's still the same.

I want you to love me all that I am. It is the only means (to be loved - or not loved).

Nobody wants - nobody can understand one thing: that I am all alone.
Acquaintances and friends - all of Moscow, but not one who is for me - no, without me! - will die.
I am not necessary to anyone, everyone is pleased.

I have always preferred to make you sleep, not deprive you of sleep, make you eat rather than deprive you of appetite, make you think, and not deprive your mind. I have always preferred to give - to deliver, to give - to receive, to give - to have.

What you call love, I call you a good mood. If you feel a little bad (disagreements at home, business, heat) - I no longer exist.

The world has a limited number of souls and an unlimited number of bodies.

... at night the city is an overturned sky.

If we consider you a close person, you made me suffer a lot, but if you are an outsider, you have brought me only good. I have never felt you either like that or different, I fought in myself for everyone, that is, against everyone.

How much better I can see a person when not with him!

Do you know what I want, always want? Darkening, lightening, transformation. The extreme cape of a stranger's soul and his own. Words that you never hear you cannot say. Non-existent. Monstrous. MIRACLE.

Never say that everyone does this: everyone always does badly - since they are so willing to refer to them. We all have a middle name: no one, and no face at all: a thorn. If you are told: no one does this (does not dress, does not think, etc.) answer: - And I am who.

A woman, if she is a man, needs a man as a luxury - very, very sometimes. Books, home, caring for children, joys from children, lonely walks, hours of bitterness, hours of delight - what can a man do here?
A woman, outside of a man, has two whole seas: life and her own soul.

At some second of the way, the target begins to fly at us. The only thought: don't shy away.

Not only do I not expect anything in return, I don’t even know if I am for him, if what is given, and if it does, is it connected with me?

It’s happiness for you that you didn’t meet me. You would be exhausted with me and still would not stop loving, because for this you love me! We want eternal loyalty not from Penelope, but from Carmen - only the faithful Don Juan is in the price! I know this temptation too. This is a cruel thing: to love for running - and demand (from Running!) Peace. But you have something that I also have: a gaze upward: into the stars: where the thrown Ariadne and thrown - which of the heroines threw? Or are only those abandoned going to heaven?

I will win you back from all lands, from all heavens ...

Never be afraid of the funny, and if you see a person in a stupid position: 1) try to get him out of him, if it is impossible - jump into him like into water, the two of you share the stupid position in half: half for each - or, at worst the end - don't see it.

The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is that which fell through.

I always kiss - the first, as simple as shaking hands, only - more irrepressibly. I just can't wait! Then, each time: “Well, who pulled you? You are the one to blame!" I know that no one likes it, that they all love to bow, beg, look for an opportunity, seek, hunt ... And most importantly - I hate it when the other kisses - the first. So I at least know I want it.

Family ... Yes, it's boring, yes, poorly, yes, my heart doesn't beat ... Isn't it better: friend, lover? But, having quarreled with my brother, I still have the right to say: "You must help me, because you are my brother ... (son, father ...)"

There are feelings that are so serious, real, big that they are not afraid of shame or misinterpretation. They know that they are only a shadow of future certainties.

People who are not aware of the existence of their own five are usually looking for the sixth sense.

I don't want to have a point of view. I want to have eyesight.

You are the wing knocking on this chest,
The young culprit of inspiration -
I command you: - be!
I will not come out of obedience.

There are people of a certain era and there are epochs who are embodied in people.

We thought it was a man!
And they made me die.
He died now. Forever.
- Cry for the dead angel!

I bless the one who invented the globe - for the fact that I can immediately embrace the whole Earth- with all my loved ones!

I'm only cocky with those on whom I depend.

The highest sacrifice is to hide that it is a sacrifice.

Dying, I will not say: I was.
And I'm not sorry, and I'm not looking for the guilty.
There are more important things in the world
Passionate storms and love exploits.

Look-to-look - bold and bright,
Heart - about five years ...
Happy who didn't meet you
On his way.

I can say about my soul, as one woman about her girl: "She is not boring for me." Parting is wonderful. While a person is near, I obediently, attentively and enthusiastically absorb him, when he is not - myself.

Lovely! Or maybe I do so much with myself because none of you have taken care of me enough?

… And I get melancholy.<...>From her I run to people, to books, even to drinks, because of her I make new acquaintances. But when melancholy "does not change from a change of places" (it reminds me of algebra "from a change in the places of factors, the work does not change") - it's rubbish, because it turns out that longing depends on itself, and not on the environment.

The first reason for rejecting a thing is unpreparedness for it.

Human conversation is one of the deepest and most subtle pleasures in life: you give the best - your soul, take the same in return, and all this is easy, without the difficulty and demanding demands of love.

People are jealous of only one thing: loneliness. They do not forgive only one thing: loneliness. They take revenge only for one thing: loneliness. Besides - that - because you dare to be alone.

The biggest (my) sorrow in love is not being able to give as much as I want.

I'm insatiable at heart.

Do not believe the "chills". There is such a draft between you and me.

I have a special gift to go with myself (thoughts, poetry, even love) just not-to-those.

Something hurts: not a tooth, not a head, not a stomach, not - not - not- ... but it hurts. This is the soul.

If the soul was born winged
What a mansion to her - and what a house to her!

Why didn't I come to you? Because I love you more than anything else. Quite simple. And because you do not know me. From suffering pride, awe of chance (or fate, as you wish). Or maybe out of fear that you will have to meet your cold gaze on the threshold of your room.

Someone's curls are tangled in a loop ..

My favorite kind of communication is otherworldly: dream: to see in a dream. And the second is correspondence. Writing as a kind of otherworldly communication, less perfect than a dream, but the laws are the same. Neither one nor the other is not ordered: we dream and write not when we want to, but when we want: a letter - to be written, to a dream - to be seen.

Every person is now a well that cannot be spit into. - And how you want!

I would have to drink you from the quarter, but I drink drop by drop, from which I cough.

Lover: the one who loves, the one through whom love is manifested, the wire of the element of Love. Maybe in the same bed, or maybe a thousand miles away. Love is not as a "connection", but as an element.

Oaths are winged.

The conscience must forget how to ask: why?

I don't care at all -
Where completely lonely
To be…

There are areas where a joke is inappropriate, and things that need to be spoken about with respect or completely silent for the lack of this feeling at all.

What is my sin? That I don’t learn to cry in church,
Laughing in reality and in a dream?
Trust me: I am cured of pain with laughter,
But laughter is not happy for me!

It's time to remove the amber,
It's time to change the dictionary
It's time to turn off the lantern
Overdoor ...

From too much and pure heat of the heart, from a humble desire not to despise yourself for love for someone you cannot but despise, from this - also from another - you inevitably come to arrogance, and then to loneliness.

If this winter passes, I will truly be as strong as death - or simply - dead.

How did it happen? Oh friend, how does this happen ?! I dashed, another answered, I heard big words, which are simpler, and which I, perhaps, for the first time in my life have heard. "Connection?" Do not know. I am bound by the wind in the branches. From hand - to lips - and where is the limit? And is there a limit? Earthly roads are short. What will come of this - I do not know. I know: great pain. I'm going to suffer.

My generation is knee-deep to me.

Not sleeping for anyone - yes!
Do not sleep over someone - yes!
Not sleeping because of someone - well, no!

There is, next to our base life, another life: solemn, indestructible, immutable: the life of the Church. The same words, the same movements - everything as centuries ago. Out of time, that is, out of treason.
We remember too little about it.

Washes away the finest blush
Love. Taste
Like tears - salty ...

All women are divided into those who go to the content and those who take to the content. I belong to the latter.

A woman is the only passion, because the source and mouth of all passion.

No one is like me and I am no one, therefore it is pointless to advise me this or that.

Lure the moon from the sky
In the palm of your hand - if it's sweet!
Well, and he left - as if he was not,
And I - as I was not.

You do not want to know that you love such and such? Then say about him: "I adore him!" - However - some - know what it means.

Two sources of a woman's genius: 1) her love for someone (mutual or not - it doesn't matter). 2) someone else's dislike.

To love ... The most sprawling in the world - a swallow!

Our heart yearns for the feast
and does not argue and allows everything
Why is nothing in this world
does not satisfy?

Everything in the world affects me more than my personal life.

I, waking up, in horror:
- “Alya! God! It's already 10 o'clock! "
Alya - out of bed - phlegmatically:
"Thank God that it is not twelve!"

I do not belong to the women who run or the women who run.
- Rather to the first. - Only my running is different - in poetry.

Not a mother, but a stepmother - Love:
Do not expect judgment or mercy.

The nobility of the heart is the organ. Unrelenting alertness. Always the first to sound the alarm. I could say: it is not love that causes my heartbeat, but the heartbeat is love.

Oblivion is a cute art
It has already been assimilated by the soul.
Some great feeling
Today it melted in my soul.

And now - now - trembling with pity and heat,
One thing: howl like a wolf, one thing: to fall at your feet,
To look down - to understand - that punishment by voluptuousness -
Cruel love and hard labor.

I do not ask, because refusal to me, I consider myself monstrous. To my refusal, I have one answer: the silent ones - like hail - tears.

I catch lip movement.
And I know - he won't be the first to say.
- Do not love? - No, I do.
Do not love? - But tortured.

The whole sea needs the whole sky
A whole heart needs all God.

Desire deep into: deep into the night, deep into love. Love: a lapse in time.

When men leave me alone, I am deeply innocent.

... Oh, bodies and waves
Excitement!
- Write! -
Kiss you
To the bottom of my soul ...

There is a lot of bitterness in this. Grabbing his forehead, I think: I will never know his life, his whole life, I don’t recognize his favorite toy at the age of three, his favorite book at the age of thirteen, I don’t know the name of his dog. And if I recognize - a toy - a book - a dog, I don't recognize anything else, I don't recognize everything, I don't recognize anything. Because - I will not have time.

Idleness; the most gaping void, the most devastating cross. Therefore, I - maybe - do not like the countryside and happy love.

Love in us is like a treasure, we know nothing about it, the whole point is in the case.

My love for him, at first biased, turned into a natural one: I rank him among those things that I loved in my life more people: sun, tree, monument. And who never bothered me - because they did not answer.

After music, the same devastation as after love - but less poisonous, because you are alone.

I need from you: my freedom to you. My trust. - And also know that you are not confused by this.

The soul is the five senses. The virtuosity of one of them is talent, the virtuosity of all five is genius.

The first love glance is that shortest distance between two points, that divine straight line, which the second does not exist.

… I don’t know if you are loved (fed with love) in life - most likely: yes. But I know - (and let you hear it for the thousandth time!) - that no one (not one!) Has ever done you like this ... And for every thousandth there is its own thousand and first time. Mine is not a measure of weight, quantity or duration, it is the magnitude of a quality: essence. I love you neither so much, nor so much, nor before ... - I love you that way. (I love you not so much, I love you as.) Oh, how many women have loved and will love you more. Everyone will love you more. Nobody will love you like that ...

I love him, as they love only those who have never been seen (those who have long gone or those who are still ahead: those who follow us), who have never been seen or who have never been.

Leaving the station, I simply parted: immediately and soberly - as in life.

I say all sorts of nonsense. You laugh, I laugh, we laugh. Nothing loving: the night belongs to us, not we to her. And as I become happy - happy because I am not in love, because I can say that there is no need to kiss, simply filled with unclouded gratitude - I kiss you.

Yesenin had a gift for singing, but he did not have a personality. His tragedy is the tragedy of emptiness. By the age of 30, he internally ended. He had only youth.

I want to see you - now it will be easy - burned out and recovered. You can come to me with confidence.
I do not allow the thought that everyone around me loved me more than you. Of all you - to me - invariably - the most dear.
That female pride in front of human truth.

There are meetings, there are feelings when everything is given at once and there is no need to continue. Continue, because this is to check.

Everything untold is continuous. So, an unrepentant murder, for example, lasts. The same about love.

Near you, poor, I feel stunned and as if frozen through (bewitched).

For complete consistency of souls, consistency of breathing is needed, for what is breathing if not the rhythm of the soul?
So, in order for people to understand each other, it is necessary that they walk or lie side by side.

I am not exaggerating you in my life - you are light even on my biased, merciful, unrighteous scales. I don't even know if you are in my life? In the vastness of my soul - no. But in that near-soul, in some kind of between: heaven and earth, soul and body, in the twilight, in everything pre-dreaming, after-dreaming, in everything where “I am not me and the horse is not mine” - there You not only are, but only you are ...

The person is so important to me - the soul - the secret of this soul, that I will let myself be trampled underfoot, just to understand - to cope!

Take me to sleep with you, in the most sleepy sleep, I will lie very still: only my heart (which I have is very loud!). Listen, I definitely want to sleep the whole night with you - whatever you want! - otherwise it will burn me (longing for you sleeping) until my death.

There are two possibilities for a person's biography: according to the dreams that he sees himself, and according to the dreams that others see about him.

For me, loneliness is - at times - the only opportunity to know another, a direct necessity.

Passion is the last opportunity for a person to express himself, as heaven is the only opportunity to be a storm.
Man is a storm, passion is the sky that dissolves it.

Rainer, I want to see you, for my sake, that new one that can only arise with you, in you.<...>Just sleep. And nothing else. No, yet: bury your head in your left shoulder, and your hand on your right shoulder - and nothing else. No, yet: even in the deepest sleep to know that it is you. And one more thing: listen to how your heart sounds. And - kiss him.

I read your letter on the ocean, read the ocean with me. Does such a reader bother you? For no human eye will ever read a single line of yours to me.

All people took care of my poetry, no one - my soul.

The lightest girl
All the same, you can't go further than your heart ...

I have written your name and I cannot write further.

They did not pluck out by all torture!
And let it be known - there:
Doctors recognize us in the morgue
For overly large hearts.

The mistress and the witch. One is worth the other.

Your face,
Your warm,
Your shoulder -
Where did it go?

I don't need any holes
Ear, no prophetic eyes.
To your crazy world
There is only one answer - refusal ..

Free you from the bonds of the day
Friends, understand that I am dreaming for you.

To say - thinking about what?
In the rain - under one cloak,
Into the night - under one cloak, then
Into the coffin - under one cloak.

Morning into a house of cards, laughing, turns our temple.
O painful shame for an extra word of the evening!
Longing for the morning!

Who is made of stone, who is made of clay -
And I am silver and sparkle!
I care about treason, my name is Marina,
I am the mortal foam of the sea.

Listen carefully: I can’t now have other hands, I CAN’T, I can without YOURS, I can’t: NOT yours!

All love is a deal. Skin for money. Skin by skin. Skin for the soul. When you do not receive either one or the other, or the third, even such a foolish merchant like me terminates the loan.

Bitterness will become a smile soon
And sadness will become fatigue.
It's a pity not the words, believe me, and not the gaze, -
Only the lost secrets are a pity!

The body is the seat of the soul. Therefore - and only because of this - don't throw them in vain!

This is Romanticism. It has nothing to do with love. You can love a person's thought - and not endure the shape of his nails, respond to his touch - and not respond to his innermost feelings. It - different areas... The soul loves the soul, the lips love the lips, if you mix it and, God forbid, try to combine it, you will be unhappy.

Beware of concepts that are clothed in words, rejoice at words that reveal concepts.

I don’t want to pierce you with me, I don’t want to overcome anything, I don’t want to want anything. If this is fate, and not a chance, there will be neither your will nor mine, there will not be, there should not be, neither you nor me. Otherwise, all this has no value, no meaning. “Lovely” men number in the hundreds, “lovely” women - in the thousands.

Today I had a thought: if youth is spring, maturity is summer, old age is autumn and old age is winter, then what is childhood? It is spring, summer, autumn and winter in one day.

More modest - how loud!
Pain as familiar as a palm to the eyes,
Like lips -
The name of your own child.

There are lyrical female backs.

Music: through the soul to the body. - Through the body to the soul: love.

In general, I have an atrophy of the present, not only do I not live, I have never been in it.

For to understand another is to become this other at least for an hour.

When can we see each other? - In a dream.
- How windy! - Hello to my wife,
And that - green-eyed - lady.

I will call my heart the second hand,
And the soul - with this starry dial!

Some ancestor of mine was a violinist,
A rider and a thief at the same time.
Isn't that why my temper is a vagabond
And the hair smells like the wind!

No one despises an honest woman as much as an honest woman.

There are two jealousies. One (offensive gesture) - from oneself, the other (blow to the chest) - into oneself. Why is it low - to thrust a knife into yourself?

Life is inimitable:
Over expectations, over lies ...

Where is the merciful hand
Receiving without recoil?

Life is passionate, life has gone out of my relationship to you: urgency. My love for you (and it is and will be) is calm. Anxiety will come from you, from your pain - oh, between real people it is not so important: whoever hurts!

I cannot help thinking about mine, so I cannot serve.

And often, sitting for the first time with a person, in the middle of an indifferent conversation, a crazy thought: “What if I kiss him now ?!” - Erotic insanity? - No. It should be the same as the player's before the bet - Will I bet or not? Will I put it on or not? - With the difference that real players bet.

It is necessary to learn (for me) to live a person's love present, as his love past.

The most intoxicating thing for me is devotion to misery. It overshadows everything.

They don't run from me - they run.
They don't run after me - they come running to me.

... Christmas is coming soon. In truth, I am so driven by life that I feel nothing. Over the years and years (1917-1927), my mind, but my soul, has become dull. An amazing observation: it takes time to feel, not a thought. Thought is lightning, feeling is the ray of the farthest star. Feeling needs leisure, it does not live under fear.<...>Feeling is obviously more demanding than thought. Either everything or nothing. I can't give mine anything: no time, no silence, no solitude.

Since everyone around is whispering: kiss your hand! kiss your hand! - it is clear that I should not kiss my hand.

You can joke with a person, but you cannot joke with his name.

I can definitely feel the soul in the middle of my chest. She is oval like an egg, and when I sigh, it is she who breathes.

Angels are not blue, but fiery. Wings are not lightness, but heaviness (strength).

I need everyone, because I am insatiable. But others, more often than not, are not even hungry, hence this ever-intense attention: is I needed?

It is not a woman who gives a man a child, but a man gives a woman. Hence the indignation of the woman when they want to take away the child (gift) from her - and the eternal, endless - for the child - gratitude.

The world is missing. Nowhere -
Flooded shores ...
- Drink, my swallow! At the bottom
Melted pearls ...

I will not torture your ways,
Darling! - after all, everything came true.
I was barefoot and you put shoes on me
Showers of hair -
And - tears.

I want everything: with the soul of a gypsy
Go to the robbery songs,
Suffer for everyone to the sound of the organ
and an Amazon to rush into battle;
Fortune telling by the stars in the black tower
Lead the children forward through the shadow ...
To be a legend - the day is yesterday,
That was madness - every day!

I have seen so many people, in so many destinies I have become overwhelmed - there is no second you on earth, this is fatal for me.

The soul will never be loved as the flesh, at best, they will be praised. Flesh is always loved by thousands of souls. Who ever doomed himself to eternal torment in the name of one soul? Yes, even if anyone wanted, it is impossible: to go to eternal torment out of love for the soul means to be an angel.

Courtesy - or unwillingness to upset? Deafness - or unwillingness to accept?

Forty-seven years of age I will say that everything that I was destined to learn, I learned before the age of seven, and all the next forty I realized.

Alive, not dead
The demon in me!
In the body as in the hold,
It’s like in a prison.

To fire: do not burn, to the wind: don’t blow, heart: don’t beat. This is what I do with myself.
- Why?!

All life is divided into three periods: the premonition of love, the action of love and the memory of love.

When you love a person, you always want him to leave, to dream about him.

In the first second, in the heat of the moment, the decision was: “Not a word! Lie, prolong, protect! Lie? But I love him! No, lie, because I love him too! " In the second second: “Cut off at once! Communication, dirt - let him turn away and stop loving! " And, directly: “No, a clean wound is better than a questionable scar. “I love” is a lie and “I don’t love” (is it really there ?!) - a lie, the whole truth! "

There was no goodbye at all. It was - disappearance.

Ask the sea wave:
Who exactly?
Forgetfulness! - only with male
Comparable ...

Aleksey Aleksandrovich! You received my kiss wonderfully!

If everything that I give to the dead on paper, I would give back alive in life, I would be ugly (persist!) And would ask me to put me in an insane asylum myself.

This was the first act of my female obedience. I always wanted to obey, the other just never wanted to rule (I didn’t want much, weakly wanted), someone else’s weakness succumbed to my strength, when my strength wanted to succumb - someone else’s.

But I will write to you - whether you want it or not.

A moment will come - I will not hide my tears ...
Neither here nor there - there is no need to meet anywhere,
And we will not wake up for meetings in paradise!

A young man who dreams of great love gradually learns to take advantage of the opportunity.

Destiny: what God intended.
Life: what people have done (to us).

- "A woman cannot be alone."
- Human can.

Boys need to be pampered - they may have to go to war.

Finally met
I need it:
Someone has a mortal
The need is in me.

My first love scene was unloving: he didn't - love (I understood that), that's why he didn't sit down, she loved - that's why she got up, they weren't together for a minute, they didn't do anything together, they did exactly the opposite: he said, she was silent, he did not love, she loved, he left, she stayed, so if you raise the curtain, she stands alone, or maybe she sits again, because she stood only because - he - stood, and then collapsed and it will sit like this forever. Tatiana sits on that bench forever.

I do not at all assume that I am well versed in modernity. Modernity is a thing established only by the future and reliable only in the past.

What am I doing in the world? - I listen to my soul.

To be contemporary is to create your time, not reflect it.

The best thing in the world, perhaps, is the huge roof from which you can see the whole world.

To love only women (a woman) or only men (a man), knowingly excluding the usual opposite - what a horror! But only women (a man) or only men (a woman), obviously excluding unusual relatives - what a boredom!

All larks today are crows.

You have never loved me. If love is decomposed into all its constituent elements, then everything is there; tenderness, curiosity, pity, delight, etc. If you put it all together - maybe love will come out.
“But it never came together.

What am I to do, singer and firstborn,
In a world where the blackest is gray!
Where inspiration is stored, like in a thermos!
With this immensity
In the world of measures?

Spread in vain dawn
Waste red spot!
... Young women sometimes
They are flattered on such a canvas.

Each of us, at the bottom of our souls, has a strange feeling of contempt for someone who loves us too much.
(Some kind of "and that's all"? - that is, if you love me so much, me, you yourself are not God only knows what!)

Casanova is given to live his life, we - to experience it.

It seems that I will never have fun - simple - and, in general, this is not my property.

What kind of demon is in me
You missed into eternity!

People are attracted to me: some people think that I still do not know how to love, others - that it is great and that I will certainly love them, others like my short hair, fourth, that I will let them go for them, everyone is imagining something, everything is something They demand - certainly something else - forgetting that it all started with me, and if I hadn't come close to them, nothing would have occurred to them, looking at my youth.
And I want lightness, freedom, understanding - not to hold anyone and not to hold anyone! My whole life is an affair with my own soul, with the city where I live, with a tree on the edge of the road, with air. And I am infinitely happy.

The detail of a description is almost always to the detriment of its accuracy.

The poet sees an unidentified statue, an unwritten painting, and hears unplayed music.

Books have given me more than people. The memory of a person always pales before the memory of a book.

You, my last peg
Hammered into the chest.

I can’t stand the tension of love, I have a monstrous, this purest transformation into my own ear, directed at the other: is it good for him to be with me? With me, it already ceases to sound and mean, one thing - is it to him?

If I am not ever crushed by a car or sunk by a steamer, all premonitions are a lie.

I say everything: love, love.
But - to be honest - I only love to be admired. - Oh, how long ago no one loved me!

The clarity of my feelings makes people mistake them for reasoning.

Hands are given to me - to stretch out both to each,
Do not hold one, lips - give names,
Eyes - not to see, high eyebrows above them -
It is tender to marvel at love and, more tenderly, in dislike.

Snowflakes are heavenly salamanders.

Oh, how I strive to leave that world,
Where pendulums tear the soul
Where my eternity rules
Kneading minutes.

I am you infinitely (along the plumb line, because otherwise you cannot accept this, not along time but deep into non-time) - infinitely, you have given me so much: all earthly tenderness, all the possibility of tenderness in me, you are my human home on earth , make sure that your chest (dear!) can bear me out - no! - so that I have room in it, EXPAND it - not for me: chance, but for the sake of something that breaks through me into you.

I see your swarthy face over a glass of coffee - in the coffee and tobacco smoke - you were like velvet, I'm talking about your voice - and like steel - I'm talking about words ...

One half of the window disappeared.
One half of the soul showed up.
Let's open it - and that half,
And that half of the window!

All our bad experiences with love we forget in love. For charm is older than experience.

The language of the common people is like a pendulum between guzzle and shit.

Children are rest, a short moment of rest,
A quivering vow to God by the bed,
Children are the world's tender riddles,
And the answer lies in the riddles themselves!

Only those who value themselves highly can value others highly. It's about an innate sense [of scale].

I laugh at the darkness beyond the grave!
I don’t believe death! I am waiting for you from the station -
Home!

The body in youth is an outfit, in old age - a coffin from which you are torn!

A cynic cannot be a poet.

The book should be performed by the reader as a sonata. Letters are notes. It is in the will of the reader - to implement or distort.

You don’t need to work on the poems, you need the verse above you (in you!) To work.

The whole secret is to tell the event of today as if it were a hundred years ago, and what happened a hundred years ago is like today.

I love everything that makes my heart beat high. This is everything.

But until I cross your fingers on your chest -
O curse! - you stay - you:
Your two wings aimed at the ether -
Because the world is your cradle, and the grave is the world!

God created man only up to the talja, - the Devil tried to do the rest.

Favorable conditions? They are not for the artist. Life itself is an unfavorable condition.

Do you believe in another world? I am. But in the formidable. Retribution! To the world where Intentions reign. To a world where judges will be judged. This will be the day of my justification, no, little: jubilation! I will stand and rejoice. Because there they will be judged not by the dress, which everyone here has better than mine, and for which they hated me so much in my life, but by the essence that prevented me from doing dress here.

Do not suspect me of poverty: I am rich in friends, I have strong connections with souls, but what could I do when out of all in the world at this hour of my soul I needed only you ?!

Love does not add to spring, spring is a difficult test for love, its great rival.

Women do not love men, but Love, men - not Love, but women. Women never cheat. Men always.

I am convinced that I do not like the concept, but the words. Give me a different name for the same thing, and the thing will suddenly shine.

In Immortality, what an hour is a train!

Downpipe: exact fate.

I don’t love you anymore.
Nothing happened - life happened. I do not think about you either in the morning, waking up, or at night, falling asleep, not on the street, not to the music - never.

Creativity is a common cause, performed by the solitary.

As such, I do not like life, for me it begins to mean, to acquire meaning and weight - only transformed, that is, in art. If they took me across the ocean - to paradise - and forbade me to write, I would give up the ocean and paradise.

I like that you are not sick with me,
I like that I'm not sick with you,
That never a heavy globe
Will not float under our feet.

Love me as it is convenient for you, but manifest it as it is convenient for me. And it is convenient for me that I do not know anything!

This is the highest bliss - to love so, to love so .. I would give my soul - to give my soul!

It's night in my huge city.
From the sleepy house I go - away
And people think: wife, daughter, -
And I remember one thing: night.

I bless the one who invented the globe - for the fact that I can immediately embrace the entire globe with these two hands - with all my loved ones!

Solar? Lunar? A vain battle! Catch every spark, heart! In every prayer - love, and prayer In every love!

You were the first to stop loving me. If this had not happened, I would still love you, because I always love to the very last opportunity!

I do not know a woman more talented than myself. I can safely say that I could write like Pushkin. My attitude to fame? As a child - especially 11 years old - I was all ambitious. "The second Pushkin" or "the first woman poet" - that is what I deserve and, perhaps, I will wait. Don't need anything less ...

For yourself - a separate room and a desk. Russia - what it wants ...

Considered courageous. Although I do not know a more timid person. I'm afraid of everything. Eye, blackness, step, and most of all - yourself. Nobody sees, does not know that I have been looking for a year with my eyes - a hook. I've been trying on death for a year. I don’t want to die. I want not to be. You must have the highest ability to live, but even more skill - to die! The heroism of the soul is to live, the heroism of the body is to die ...

Life is a train station ... life is a place where you cannot live.

What is confession? Boast your vices! Who could talk about their torment without ecstasy, that is, happiness ?!

I wish my children not another soul, but another life, and if this is impossible - my own unhappy happiness.

Man is a pretext for an explosion. (Why do volcanoes explode?) Sometimes volcanoes explode with treasure. Let explode more than mine.

... Oh, pitiful efforts of impostors!
Like a dream, like snow, like death - shrines - to everyone.
Ban on the Kremlin? There is no ban on the wings!
And therefore - there is no ban on the Kremlin!

The one who is more guilty is right in love.

You have a ring with a black stone on your hand. You wear it, that you are used to it, because you have been wearing it for ten years. But in the small town where you live, no one knows its name. You wear it simply and cheerfully, as you would wear it in its place - any other: on the first day, because it was just given to you, today, because it was presented to you ten years ago. Replace it with black glass, you will not even notice. - Whose stone is in your ring?

It is impossible to do what I do not want for me. Not doing what I want is the usual state.

To the Emperor - the capitals,
Drummer - snow.

... and the truth is more complete than you think: for a tree makes noise towards you only if you feel it, feel it this way, and so it just makes noise. Only you and no one else, just like: no one. You - if you hear it like that (love), or, if nobody needs it, nobody needs it.

I am writing to you on a heavenly morning: not a single cloud, the sun floods my forehead and table, squinting and squinting like a cat. We have had this kind of weather for several days, we don't want to do anything. Autumn, leaving, as if thinking, looked back at summer and could not turn back to winter. Days like these poison me like any undeserved kindness.

A title is a deep thing, I am surprised at the superficial, purely verbal - outside the semantic - attitude of its carriers towards it.<...>The principality is, first of all, a halo. You need a face under a halo.

Jewish girl - between brides -
What a rose among willows!
And the old silver grandfathers cross
Changed to David's shield.

I did not say at all that art cannot be judged, I only said that no one can condemn it as much as a poet.

I regard the sea as a wasted walking place. I have nothing to do with him. Only a sailor or a fisherman can love the sea. The rest is human laziness, who loves his own lying on the sand.

Dealing with me as a thing, for me you yourself became a thing, an empty place, and for a while I myself became an empty house, for the place that you occupied in my soul was not small.<...>
Live as you can - you are also poor at it - and with my light hand, it seems, even worse than before me - you like me need ends and beginnings, and you, like me, break into a person, immediately into his core, and then there is nowhere ...
For me, earthly love is a dead end. Our sleigh did not reach anywhere, everything remained a dream.

I am an inexhaustible source of heresy. Knowing not one, I confess them all. Maybe I do.

It is important for us to come to an agreement, to come to an agreement and - by agreement - to hold. After all, it usually fails because both are unreliable. When one is reliable, there is already hope. And we are both reliable, you and me.

There are women who, in honor, had neither friends nor lovers: friends too soon became lovers, lovers - friends.

Caring for the poor: turn the old into the new, the rich: the new into the old.

I know everything that was, everything that will be
I know all the deaf and dumb secret
What's on the dark, on the tongue-tied
Human language is called - Life.

Charm: a separate area, like the mind, like a gift, like beauty - and not consisting in either one or the other, or the third. Not consisting, as they are, incomparable, indecomposable, indivisible.

My love for you shattered into days and letters, hours and lines.

"Sharp feelings" and "necessary thoughts"
It is not given to me from God.
You have to sing that everything is dark
That dreams are hanging over the world ...
- That's the way it is now. -
These feelings and these thoughts
It is not given to me from God!

The poet's work is only a series of mistakes, a string of denials flowing from each other. Every line is a scream! - a thought that worked all over his brain.

Until convincing, until
Murderousness is simple:
Two birds have forged a nest for me:
Truth - and Orphanhood.

Whistle boyish pain
And clamp your heart in handfuls ...
My cold blooded, my frantic
Freedman - I'm sorry!

- "Wait, you bastard, when you become a cat, and I am a lady" ...
(The imaginary beginning of the cat's speech is to me.)

Do not love, rich, - poor,
Do not love, scientist, - stupid,
Do not love, ruddy, - pale,
Do not love, good, - harmful:
Gold - a copper half!

Life should be a happy person - to rejoice, to encourage him in this rare gift. Because happiness comes from being happy.

It was not for nothing that I loved that embroidered picture so strangely, so close: a young woman, two children at her feet, girls.
And she looks - over the children - into the distance.

When people are so abandoned by people as you and I - there is no need to go to God - like beggars. He has a lot of them without us!

There are unloving tragedies in nature: tornado, hurricane, hail. (I would call the city a family tragedy in nature).

The only love tragedy in nature: a thunderstorm.

Heart swept out: with a broom
Street at six in the morning.

Let the young not remember
About bent old age.
Let the old ones not remember
About blissful youth.

The eye sees - the invisible distance,
The heart sees - the most invisible connection.
The ear drinks - an unheard-of rumor.
Divine is crying over the broken Igor.

Love and motherhood are almost mutually exclusive. Real motherhood is courageous.

I perceive whiteness not as an absence of color, but as a presence.

Glory! I didn't want you;
I wouldn't be able to carry you ...

I began to laugh and dress up when I was 20, and I rarely smiled before.
I do not know a man more heroic in his early youth than myself.

I love the rich. Wealth is a halo. In addition, you never expect anything good from them, as from kings, therefore, a simple, reasonable word on their lips is revelation, a simple human feeling is heroism. Wealth increases everything (resonance of zero!). I thought a bag of money, no - a man. In addition, wealth gives self-awareness and peace of mind ("everything I do is good!") - as a gift, therefore, with the rich, I am at my level. With others I am too "humiliated".
I love the rich. I swear and affirm that the rich are kind (because it costs them nothing) and beautiful (because they dress well). If you cannot be neither a man, nor handsome, nor noble, you must be rich.

Good glory, with simply - glory - is unfamiliar. Glory: so that they talk about me. Good glory: so that they don't say bad things about me. Good credit: one of our modesty types - and all our honesty.

A poet cannot glorify the state - whatever it may be - for he is a spontaneous phenomenon, while the state - every state - is the bridle of the elements.
Such is the nature of our breed that we respond more to a burning house than to a house under construction.

You become God through joy, man through suffering. This does not mean that the gods do not suffer and do not rejoice - humans.

To the music.
A terrible weakening, a fall in my emotional beginning: the memory of feelings. I feel only in a dream or to music. I live by a clearly rational principle: the soul has become rational, or rather, the mind has become a soul. Previously, she lived in confusion: longing, love, lived madly, did not understand anything, did not want to and did not know how to define or consolidate. Now the slightest movement in oneself and in another is clear: why and why.
Only music and sleep knock me out of the saddle.

Know one thing: no one is your match -
And throw yourself on everyone's chest.

I would like to live on the street and listen to music.

In life - one thing, in love another. Never in my life: always in love.

You have succeeded in what no one has been able to do so far: to tear me away not from: myself (everyone was tearing away), but from: their own.

Dashes and italics are the only transmitters of intonation in print.

Poets are the only true lovers of women.

French women do not hesitate to open their neck and shoulders (and chest) in front of men, but they are embarrassed to do it in front of the sun.

This is my life sang - howl -
Buzzed - like the autumn surf -
And she cried over herself.

When people, colliding with me for an hour, are horrified by the size of the feelings that evoke in me, they make a triple mistake: they are not - not in me - not the sizes. Simple: the immensity that gets in the way. And they can be right about only one thing: in a sense of horror.

And a child's tear for a hero,
And a hero's tear for a child,
And big stone mountains
On the chest of the one who should - down ...

Stupid loneliness from the fact that no one remembered your name day (July 17 - I myself did not remember!)

Creativity is a common cause, performed by the solitary.

Tango! - How many destinies has it brought together and spread!

It is given to us to live together a whole piece of life. Let us live it as better as possible, perhaps more amicably.
For this I need your and your trust. Let's be allies. Alliance (in spite of everything and through everyone!) Destroys jealousy.
This is the beginning of the humanity needed in love. "Not for life." - Yes, but what for the rest of my life ?! (Since life itself is "not for life" - and thank God!)

Love conquers everything except poverty and toothache.

A mediocre woman: when she does not love (anyone), when she does not love the one whom she does not love.

And always one and the same -
Let the hero love in the novel!

Life: knives on which he dances
Loving.

When I write while lying down, wearing a shirt, putting a notebook to my raised knees, I inevitably feel like Nekrasov on his deathbed.

To all of you - that I, who knew no measure in anything,
Strangers and our own ?! -
I make a claim of faith
And asking for love.

There are no small events. There are little people.

The memory is too heavy on the shoulders
I will cry for the earthly and in paradise,
I am old words when we meet again
I will not hide it.

She put a circle around my eyes
Shady - insomnia.
Insomnia wrapped around my eyes
A crown of shadow.

Friend! Rain outside my window
Trouble and goodness in the heart ...

The reader should write the book. The best reader reads with his eyes closed.

I don’t dream, I dream it.

What do I want from you, Rainer? Nothing. Total. So that you allow me every moment of my life to direct my gaze to you - as to the top that protects (some kind of stone guardian angel!). Until I knew you - it could have been so, but now that I know you - permission is required.
For my soul is well brought up.

And always one and the same -
Let the hero love in the novel!

All women lead to the fogs.

The ghetto of chosenness. Shaft. Moat.
Do not expect mercy.
In this most Christian world
Poets are Jews.

If you were born winged -
What a mansion to her - and what a house to her!

I know everything that was, everything that will be,
I know all the deaf and dumb secret
What's on the dark, on the tongue-tied
Human language is called - Life.

And if the heart is breaking
Removes stitches without a doctor, -
Know that there is a head from the heart,
And there is an ax - from the head ...

To the Emperor - the capitals,
Drummer - snow.

To some without crookedness -
Life is given dearly.

Do not love, rich - poor,
Do not love, scientist - stupid
Do not love, ruddy - pale,
Do not love, good - harmful:
Gold - a copper half!

Don't be ashamed, country Russia!
Angels are always barefoot ...

Let the young not remember
About hunched over old age.
Let the old ones not remember
About blissful youth.

Heart - of love potions
The potion is the truest of all.
Woman from the cradle
Someone's mortal sin.

The whole sea needs the whole sky
A whole heart needs all God.

And the indifferent - God will punish!
It is scary to tread on the soul of a living.

The ship cannot sail indefinitely
And do not sing a nightingale.

I bless the daily work,
Bless the nightly sleep.
The Lord's mercy - and the Lord's judgment,
A good law is a stone law.

There is sadness in the world. God has no sadness!

... Forever in blind man's buff
Playing with reality is harmful.

All along the same road
Dragged by the droves -
In the early, late hour.

Woe, woe, salty sea!
You will feed
You will get me drunk
You will spin
You will serve!
Bitterness! Bitterness! Eternal smack
On your lips, about passion! Bitterness! Bitterness!
Eternal ordeal -
The final fall.

Hussar! - Not finished with dolls yet,
- Ah! - in the cradle we are waiting for the hussar!

Children are the world's tender riddles,
And the answer lies in the riddles themselves!

Valor and virginity! This union
As ancient and wondrous as death and glory.

Friend! Indifference is a bad school!
It hardens the hearts.

There are more important things in the world
Passionate storms and love exploits.

There is an hour - like a discarded clutch:
When we tame our pride.
An hour of apprenticeship - it is in everyone's life
Solemnly inevitable.

Woman from the cradle
Someone's mortal sin.

For the prince - the clan, for the seraphim - the host,
Behind each - thousands of people like him,
So that, staggering, - on a living wall
I fell and knew that - thousands to replace!

A den for the beast,
To the wanderer - the road,
The dead are dear.
To each his own.

Know one thing: that tomorrow you will be old.
Forget the rest, baby.

And her tears - water, and blood -
Water, - in blood, washed in tears!
Not a mother, but a stepmother - Love:
Do not expect judgment or mercy.

And so the moons will melt
And melt the snow
When this young man rushes by
Adorable age.

Every verse is a child of love
Beggar bastard
Firstborn - on the track
To bow to the winds - put.

Some go to the sand, some go to school.
To each his own.
On human heads
Leisya, forget!

Who did not build a house -
Unworthy of the earth.

Who doesn't owe friends -T
from hardly generous to girlfriends.

Lighter than a fox
Hide under clothes,
Than hide you
Jealousy and tenderness!

Love! Love! And in convulsions and in a coffin
I am alert - I am seduced - I am embarrassed - I will rush.

People, believe me: we are alive with longing!
Only in melancholy are we victorious over boredom.
Will everything change? What is flour?
No, better with flour!

We sleep - and now, through the stone slabs
Heavenly guest in four petals.
O world, understand! Singer - in a dream - open
Star law and flower formula.

Do not love, rich - poor,
Do not love, scientist - stupid,
Do not love, ruddy - pale,
Do not love, good - harmful:
Gold - a copper half!

One half of the window disappeared.
One half of the soul showed up.
Let's open it - and that half,
And that half of the window!

Olympians ?! Their look is sleeping!
Celestials - we - sculpt!

Hands that are not needed
Darling, they serve - the World.

... Love washes away the best blush.

Poems grow like stars and like roses
How beauty is unnecessary in the family.

Already the evening is spreading, the earth is already in dew,
Soon a starry blizzard will freeze in the sky,
And soon we will all fall asleep underground,
Who on earth did not let each other fall asleep.

I love women, that they were not shy in battle,
Those who knew how to hold a sword and a spear, -
But I know that only in captivity of the cradle
Ordinary - feminine - my happiness!

In a dialogue with life, it is not her question that is important, but our answer.

You can joke with a person, but you cannot joke with his name.

Women talk about love and are silent about lovers, men - vice versa.

Love in us is like a treasure, we know nothing about it, the whole point is in the case.

To love is to see a person the way God intended him and his parents did not fulfill him.

For complete coherence of souls, coherence of breathing is needed, for what is breath if not the rhythm of the soul? So, in order for people to understand each other, it is necessary that they walk or lie side by side.

There are meetings, there are feelings when everything is given at once and there is no need to continue. Continue, because this is to check.

Every time I find out that a person loves me, I am surprised, does not love me, I am surprised, but most of all I am surprised when a person is indifferent to me.

Love and motherhood are almost mutually exclusive. Real motherhood is courageous.

Love: in winter from cold, in summer from heat, in spring from the first leaves, in autumn from the last: always - from everything.

Betrayal already indicates love. You can't betray a friend.

The body in youth is an outfit, in old age - a coffin from which you are torn!

Goddesses married gods, gave birth to heroes, and loved shepherds.

Our best words are intonation.

Creativity is a common cause, performed by the solitary.

The future is the realm of legends about us, just as the past is the realm of fortune-telling about us (although it seems the other way around). The present is only a tiny field of our activity.

Life should rejoice in a happy person, encourage him in this rare gift. Because happiness comes from being happy.

The wings are freedom only when they are open in flight, behind the back they are heaviness.

How delightful is the preaching of equality from princely lips - so disgusting of the janitors.

Favorable conditions? They are not for the artist. Life itself is an unfavorable condition.

V Orthodox Church(in the temple) I feel a body going into the ground, in a Catholic one - a soul flying into the sky.

A woman who does not forget about Heinrich Heine the minute her lover enters, loves only Heinrich Heine.

Kinship by blood is coarse and strong, kinship by election is subtle. Where it is thin, there it breaks.

The curve takes out, the straight line drowns.

- Know yourself! - I did. - And this does not in the least make it easier for me to know the other. On the contrary, as soon as I begin to judge a person by myself, I get a misunderstanding after misunderstanding.

I love the rich. I swear and affirm that the rich are kind (because it costs them nothing) and beautiful (because they dress well).

If you cannot be neither a man, nor handsome, nor noble, you must be rich.

Our children are older than us, because they live longer. Older than us from the future. Therefore, sometimes they are alien to us.

The girls of that circle lived almost exclusively by feelings and arts and thus understood more in matters of the heart than our most lively, sober, most enlightened contemporaries. (About Pushkin's time).

Sport is a waste of time, a waste of energy. Below the athlete is only his viewer.

Each book is a theft from one's own life. The more you read, the less you know how and you want to live on your own.

Russian poet and prose writer Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva is one of the brightest representatives of the Silver Age of Literature. Marina Tsvetaeva's quotes are still worthy of attention and carry the reader into her world.

Creative soul forever - M. Tsvetaeva

The very first collection was released in 1910 "Evening Album", which was rather a diary of a young educated girl in verse. There are still many half-childish thoughts and dreams in it. In 1912 - the collection "The Magic Lantern", and in 1914 - the poem "The Wizard".

Already at a more mature age, her feelings on paper are more and more frank. Already the poems are dedicated to all facets of human love, the homeland and the poetic miracle in the soul of the creator. Marina Tsvetaeva's quotes amaze with the depth and uniqueness of the images and strength: "They (feelings) know that they are only a shadow of future certainties."

Throughout her long life, she did not retreat from her talent - to still sincerely talk about the most secret thoughts in stanzas of the greatest beauty.

In order to enhance the emotionality of what was said, the poetess used an unusual syntax and special lexical contrasts. All verses are alive, translucent; their rhythm is very diverse. Tsvetaeva did not write according to "rules and regulations."

Features of creativity. Quotes

The poetess herself referred to herself as one of the contingent of creators who write only pure lyrics, images stored within the spirit. Marina Tsvetaeva's quotes convey the whole gamut of thought forms of their creator.

She called such creators - the "circle" poets. Others, writing about their time and people, called "arrows" poets. All her work is confession and pathos. Marina Tsvetaeva conveys very strong and exciting emotions to us; all lovers, young and mature, experienced, recite.

And playing up her name in one of the poems, she compares herself to the ubiquitous sea foam that changes shape.

Of course, under the influence of time and events, creativity undergoes changes, like the soul of the poetess. During the years of the coup, the poet's husband was in the service. He was a White Movement Officer. Tsvetaeva herself with two children was on the verge of a beggarly existence.

Belief in love and a rich, vibrant life, which can be seen in previous collections, have disappeared, but a thick emotional tension still remains in the work.

In these especially difficult years, the verses of poetry reflect sympathy for the rejected and persecuted. At this time, she wrote a collection called "Swan Camp", which is entirely devoted to the life of the White Guards, their tasks and aspirations.

Love as a coat of arms in the artistic world of the poetess

The poetess more than once reflected in her poems a deep difference between divine and human love. Although human love, she knew, more excites the mind.

She could not help but admire, not soar in the height of inspiration. Her love all the time "splashed out" outward, the quotes of Marina Tsvetaeva tell about it.

And how my heart was incinerated
This wasted gunpowder!

She wrote in the poem "You Walking Past Me." She could not afford to miss the wonderful moments of her life. And I tried to show others the beauty of being.

The poetess was never afraid to love - the quotations of Marina Tsvetaeva express this too vividly.

At the same time, not only passions fill her poems, but also heartfelt affection, and reverence for life, and faith in an immortal soul.

The turning point of fate. Continuation of creation

Not just a line, but a full-fledged niche in her work is occupied by reflections on life and soul. She published a whole collection of poems - "Hour of the Soul". Marina Tsvetaeva's quotes about life's difficulties also appeal to modern readers.

For her, life was woven of deep dramas, alternation of defeats and inspirations. Her youngest daughter (Irina Efron) died in the years of famine, which did not break this woman.

After arriving in Europe (in 1922) Tsvetaeva's life did not become much easier. But every day for 2 o'clock in the morning she wrote. Such was Marina Tsvetaeva. Quotes about life tell us about it.

"Life is inimitable lies: beyond expectation, beyond lies ...".

All the hardships of emigre life fell on the vulnerable soul of the poetess, engraving their imprint on it. In all the verses, in all the sayings of this person, it is clear that the smallest details of human life did not escape the perspicacious synthesis of the mind and soul of the poetess.

The poetic world of our time knows Tsvetaeva as an unsurpassed lyrical nature. However, her poetry is characterized not only by deep lyrics, frankness and pathos. Many words are imbued with an understanding of the essence of life and man in it as a being, consisting of 2 elements - earthly and spiritual.

The most famous and wisest statement about Tsvetaeva's love is “To love means to see a person the way God intended him and his parents didn’t realize him.”

She understood how much pain she brought to her husband, Sergei Efron. Therefore, in his confession he writes: “GOD, do not judge. You were not a woman on earth. " Now these stanzas have become a song. Also known is another song to her poems "How many of them fell into this abyss ...".

Although the life of the poetess was not cut short by the will of God, in whom she believed - she committed suicide in 1942, she loved life. And she loved her husband until the end of her life, which she proved when she came for him in Soviet Russia in the brutal years of repression. "Yes, a wife in Eternity, not on paper!"