Regarding myself as a mere echo, Cave-like, unintelligible and nocturnal… — Anna Akhmatova, from “Festive Song,” The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova (Zephyr Press, 1990) Advertisements
Why is it that when you awake to the world of realities you nearly always feel, sometimes very vividly, that the vanished dream has carried with it some enigma which you have failed to solve? — Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot. (Modern Library; New edition edition, April 8, 2003) Originally published 1869,
Oh, how often you’ll remember The sudden pain of unnamed longing — Anna Akhmatova, from “I’ll erase this day from your memory,” trans. A. S. Kline, White Flock (Hyperborea, 1917)
It is only when we realize that life is taking us nowhere that it begins to have meaning. — P. D. Ouspensky
I shall continue to exist. I may assume other disguises, other forms, but I shall try to exist. — Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire: A Poem in Four Cantos (Putnam, 1962)
With one burning hand she held his and with the other she kept pushing him away. ― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina. (Norilana Books February 16, 2008) Originally published 1873.
Faces appear, are washed away, Dear today and tomorrow far off. Why did I once turn down the corner of this page? Now the book always opens To the same place. And then it’s strange: It’s as if from the moment of farewell, The years have not passed beyond recall. — Anna Akhmatova, from “Imitation… Continue reading Anna Akhmatova