Best 69 quotes of Alexander Pushkin on MyQuotes

A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.

A man who's active and incisive can yet keep nail-care much in mind: why fight what's known to be decisive? Custom is despot of mankind.

Ballet is a dance executed by the human soul.

Cabbage soup and barley. They're Russia's national food. Both excellent in their way, but a shade monotonous.

Don't be sad, don't be angry, if life deceives you! Submit to your grief - your time for joy will come, believe me.

Ecstasy is a glass full of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.

Fearing no insult, asking for no crown, receive with indifference both flattery and slander, and do not argue with a fool.

Habit is Heaven's own redress: it takes the place of happiness.

I am married and happy. My only wish is that nothing will change.

If you but knew the flames that burn in me which I attempt to beat down with my reason.

I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.

I loved you: and, it may be, from my soul The former love has never gone away, But let it not recall to you my dole; I wish not sadden you in any way. I loved you silently, without hope, fully, In diffidence, in jealousy, in pain; I loved you so tenderly and truly, As let you else be loved by any man.

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.

Inspiration is needed in geometry, just as much as in poetry.

In this, our age of infamy Man's choice is but to be A tyrant, traitor, prisoner: No other choice has he.

It is better to have dreamed a thousand dreams that never were than never to have dreamed at all.

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.

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.

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. Struck by the clouds of cruel fate My crown of Summer bloom is sere Alone and sad, I watch and wait And wonder if the end is near. As conquered by the last cold air When Winter whistles in the wind Alone upon a branch that's bare A trembling leaf is left behind.

I want to understand you, I study your obscure language.

Mistress-like, its brilliance vain, highly capricious and inane.

Moscow... how many strains are fusing in that one sound, for Russian hearts! What store of riches it imparts!

My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?

My whole life has been pledged to this meeting with you.

Please, never despise the translator. He's the mailman of human civilization.

Sad that our finest aspiration, Our freshest dreams and meditations, In swift succession should decay, Like Autumn leaves that rot away.

Somewhere between obsession and compulsion is impulse.

Thank you, darling, for learning to play chess. It is an absolute necessity for any well organized family. (in a letter to his wife)

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.

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.

There yet remains but one concluding tale, And then this chronicle of mine is ended - Fulfilled, the duty God ordained to me, A sinner. Not without purpose did the Lord, Put me to witness much for many years, And educate me in the love of books. One day some indefatigable monk, Will find my conscientious, unsigned work; Like me, he will light up his ikon-lamp, And, shaking from the scroll the age-old dust, He will transcribe these tales in all their truth.

Thus people--so it seems to me-- Become good friends from sheer ennui.

'Tis time, my friend, 'tis time! For rest the heart is aching; Days follow days in flight, and every day is taking, Fragments of being, while together you and I, Make plans to live. Look, all is dust, and we shall die.

To love all ages yield surrender; But to the young it's raptures bring A blessing bountiful and tender- As storms refresh the fields of spring.

Try to be forgotten. Go live in the country. Stay in mourning for two years, then remarry, but choose somebody decent.

Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world than two bodies can occupy one and the same place in the physical world.

Unrequited love is not an affront to man but raises him.

Write for pleasure and publish for money.

Blest who was youthful in his youth; blest who matured at the right time; who gradually the chill of life with years was able to withstand; who never was addicted to strange dreams; who did not shun the fahsinable rabble; who was at twenty fop or blade, and then at thirty, profitably married; who rid himself at fifty of private and of other debts; who fame, money, and rank in due course calmly gained; about whom lifelong one kept saying: N. N. is an excellent man. But it is sad to think that to no purpose youth was given us, that we betrayed it every hour, that it duped us; that our best wishes, that our fresh dreamings, in quick succession have decayed like leaves in putrid autumn. It is unbearable to see before one only of dinners a long series, to look on life as on a rite, and in the wake of the decorous crowd to go, not sharing with it either general views, or passions.

Blest who was youthful in his youth; blest who matured at the right time; who gradually the chill of life with years was able to withstand; who never was addicted to strange dreams; who did not shun the fashionable rabble; who was at twenty fop or blade, and then at thirty, profitably married; who rid himself at fifty of private and of other debts; who fame, money, and rank in due course calmly gained; about whom lifelong one kept saying: N. N. is an excellent man. But it is sad to think that to no purpose youth was given us, that we betrayed it every hour, that it duped us; that our best wishes, that our fresh dreamings, in quick succession have decayed like leaves in putrid autumn. It is unbearable to see before one only of dinners a long series, to look on life as on a rite, and in the wake of the decorous crowd to go, not sharing with it either general views, or passions.

But flaming youth in all it's madness Keeps nothing of its heart concealed: It's loves and hates, its joys and sadness, Are babbled out and soon revealed.

Ecstasy is a glass full of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth." [From: 19 Lessons On Tea]

Ever peaceful be you slumber Though your days were few in number On this earth-spite took its toll- Yet shall heaven have your soul With pure love we did regard you For your loved one did we guard you But you came not to the groom Only to a chill dark tomb

From an evil dog be glad of a handful of hairs.

God save us from seeing a Russian revolt, senseless and merciless. Those who plot impossible upheavals among us, are either young and do not know our people, or are hard-hearted men who do not care a straw either about their own lives or those of others.

He knew this place, where once in sport/The flood had played and waves had bubbled,/Defiant in their fierce despair;/He knew these lions, and this square,/And him whose bronze head dominated/The darkness from its lofty height –/Whose fateful head will had on this site/Decreed a city be created.

He who has lived and thought can't help despising people in his soul; him who has felt disturbs the ghost of irrecoverable days; for him there are no more enchantments; him does the snake of memories, him does repentance bite.

How sad, however, if we're given Our youth as something to betray, And what if youth in turn is driven To cheat on us, each hour, each day, If our most precious aspirations, Our freshest dreams, imaginations In fast succession have decayed, As leaves, in putrid autumn, fade. It is too much to see before one Nothing but dinners in a row, Behind the seemly crowd to go, Regarding life as mere decorum, Having no common views to share, Nor passions that one might declare.

I gaze forward without fear.

I have become well versed in magic.