Quote #16
Moscow... how many strains are fusing in that one sound, for Russian hearts! what store of riches it imparts!
More from Aleksandr Pushkin
- The clock of doom had struck as fated; the poet, without a sound, let fall his pistol on the ground.
- Sad that our finest aspiration Our freshest dreams and meditations, In swift succession should decay, Like Autumn leaves that rot away.
- 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 toil…
- Pimen [writing in front of a sacred lamp]: One more, the final record, and my annals Are ended, and fulfilled the duty laid By God on me a …
- Habit is Heaven's own redress: it takes the place of happiness.
- Like some magistrate grown gray in office, Calmly he contemplates alike the just And unjust, with indifference he notes Evil and good, and …
- Love passed, the Muse appeared, the weather of mind got clarity new-found; now free, I once more weave together emotion, thought, and magic…
- Ah! heavy art thou, crown of Monomakh!