Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Poetry · Russian Culture · Russian Literature

Anna Akhmatova

Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold, Death’s great black wing scrapes the air, Misery gnaws to the bone. Why then do we not despair? By day, from the surrounding woods, cherries blow summer into town; at night the deep transparent skies glitter with new galaxies. And the miraculous comes so close to the ruined, dirty houses—… Continue reading Anna Akhmatova

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Classic · Collection · Compilation · Correspondence · Essay · Excerpt · Non-fiction · Passage · Quote · Russian Culture · Russian Literature

Leo Tolstoy

If, then, I were asked for the most important advice I could give, that which I considered to be the most useful to the men of our century, I should simply say: in the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you. — Leo Tolstoy, Essays, Letters and Miscellanies. (Wildside Press,… Continue reading Leo Tolstoy

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Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Excerpt · Fiction · Passage · Quote · Russian Culture · Russian Literature · Short Stories

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You ask yourself: where are your dreams now? And you shake your head and say how swiftly the years fly by! And you ask yourself again: what have you done with your best years, then? Where have you buried the best days of your life? Have you lived or not? Look, you tell yourself, look… Continue reading Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Russian Culture · Russian Literature

Arseny Tarkovsky

I don’t believe in omens or fear Forebodings. I flee from neither slander Nor from poison. Death does not exist. Everyone’s immortal. Everything is too. No point in fearing death at seventeen, Or seventy. There’s only here and now, and light; Neither death, nor darkness, exists. We’re all already on the seashore; I’m one of… Continue reading Arseny Tarkovsky

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Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Poetry · Russian Culture · Russian Literature

Anna Akhmatova

Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold, Death’s great black wing scrapes the air, Misery gnaws to the bone. Why then do we not despair? By day, from the surrounding woods, cherries blow summer into town; at night the deep transparent skies glitter with new galaxies. And the miraculous comes so close to the ruined, dirty houses—… Continue reading Anna Akhmatova

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