Best 34 quotes of Marina Tsvetaeva on MyQuotes

After a sleepless night the body gets weaker, It becomes dear and not yours - and nobody's. Just like a seraph you smile to people And arrows moan in the slow arteries. After a sleepless night the arms get weaker And deeply equal to you are the friend and foe. Smells like Florence in the frost, and in each Sudden sound is the whole rainbow. Tenderly light the lips, and the shadow's golden Near the sunken eyes. Here the night has sparked This brilliant likeness - and from the dark night Only just one thing - the eyes - are growing dark.

An amazing observation: it is precisely for feelings that one needs time, not for thought. ... Feelings, obviously, are more demanding than thought.

Don't you know no one can escape the power of creatures reaching out with breath alone?

However much you feed a wolf, it always looks to the forest. We are all wolves of the dense forest of Eternity.

How quiet the writing, how noisy the printing.

I am a shadow’s shade, a lunatic, perhaps, Of two dark moons.

I opened my veins. Unstoppably life spurts out with no remedy. Now I set out bowls and plates. Every bowl will be shallow. Every plate will be small. And overflowing their rims, into the black earth, to nourish the rushes unstoppably without cure, gushes poetry.

I refuse to be. In the madhouse of the inhuman I refuse to live. With the wolves of the market place I refuse to howl.

My desk, most loyal friend thank you. You've been with me on every road I've taken. My scar and my protection.

My favorite mode of communication is in the world beyond: a dream, to see in a dream. My second favorite is correspondence.

My verses are my diary. My poetry is a poetry of proper names.

There are books so alive that you're always afraid that while you weren't reading, the book has gone and changed, has shifted like a river; while you went on living, it went on living too, and like a river moved on and moved away. No one has stepped twice into the same river. But did anyone ever step twice into the same book?

Think about me lightly, think of me, and forget.

What is the main thing in love? to know and to hide. To know about the one you love and to hide that you love. At times the hiding (shame) overpowers the knowing (passion). The passion for the hidden - the passion for the revealed.

What is this gypsy passion for separation, this readiness to rush off when we've just met? My head rests in my hands as I realize, looking into the night that no one turning over our letters has yet understood how completely and how deeply faithless we are, which is to say: how true we are to ourselves.

What shall I do, singer and first-born, in a world where the deepest black is grey, and inspiration is kept in a thermos? with all this immensity in a measured world?

Who sleeps at night? No one is sleeping.
 In the cradle a child is screaming.
 An old man sits over his death, and anyone
 young enough talks to his love, breathes 
into her lips, looks into her eyes.

Wings are freedom only when they are wide open in flight. On one's back they are a heavy weight.

Women talk about love and silent about lovers, men - on the contrary: Speaking of mistresses, but are silent about love.

After a night of insomnia the body gets weaker, Becomes dear but no one’s — not even your own.

Black as--the centre of an eye, the centre, a blackness that sucks at light. I love your vigilance Night, first mother of songs, give me the voice to sing of you in those fingers lies the bridle of the four winds. Crying out, offering words of homage to you, I am only a shell where the ocean is still sounding. But I have looked too long into human eyes. Reduce me now to ashes--Night, like a black sun.

Chaque chose doit resplendir à son heure, et cette heure est celle où des yeux véritables la regardent.

(Everyday life is like a sack: with holes. And you carry it anyway.)

For the way of the comets is the poet's way.

I - am. You - will be. An abyss between us. I drink. You thirst. In vain we try to agree. Ten years between us, a hundred thousand Years between us. - God builds no bridges. Be! - that's my commandment! Let me pass So that my breath doesn't hinder your growth. I - am. You - will be. Some ten springs from now, You'll say : - I am! - and I will say : - once was...

I’m kissing you now — across The gap of a thousand years.

I have two enemies in all the world, Two twins, inseparably fused: The hunger of the hungry and the fullness of the full.

I’ll rise up as a poem…

I want to sleep with you, fall asleep and sleep. That magnificent folk word, how deep, how true, how unequivocal, how exactly what it says. Just – sleep. And nothing more. No, another thing: and know right into the deepest sleep that it is you. And more: how your heart sounds. And – kiss your heart.

My favorite means of communication is otherworldly: dreams—meeting in dreams.

Perhaps we may meet each other in a dream.

Somewhere in the night a human being is drowning.

The eclipses of poets are not foretold in the calendar.

Tonight - I am alone in the night, a homeless and sleepless nun! Tonight I hold all the keys to this the only capital city and lack of sleep guides me on my path. You are so lovely, my dusky Kremlin! Tonight I put my lips to the breast of the whole round and warring earth. Now I feel hair - like fur - standing on end: the stifling winds blow straight into my soul. Tonight I feel compassion for everyone, those who are pitied, along with those who are kissed.