I share no man's opinions; I have my own.

We Russians have assigned ourselves no other task in life but the cultivation of our own personalities, and when we're barely past childhood, we set to work to cultivate them, those unfortunate personalities.

That is what poetry can do. It speaks to us of what does not exist, which is not only better than what exists, but even more like the truth.

I agree with no one's opinion. I have some of my own.

Ah, but in time the heat of noontide passes, and to it there succeed nightfall and dusk, with a return to the quiet fold where for the weary an the heavy-laden there waits sleep, sweet sleep.

Whatever man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself.

Go forward while you can, but if your strength fails you, sit down near the road and gaze without anger or envy at those who pass by. They don't have far to go, either.