Courage: Great Russian word, fit for the songs of our children's children, pure on their tongues, and free.
Anna AkhmatovaThere is a sacred, secret line in loving which attraction and even passion cannot cross.
Anna AkhmatovaThe word landed with a stony thud Onto my still-beating breast. Nevermind, I was prepared, I will manage with the rest. I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again. . . But how. The hot summer rustles Like a carnival outside my window; I have long had this premonition Of a bright day and a deserted house.
Anna Akhmatova