Only in Russia poetry is respected - it gets people killed.
A raznochinets needs no memory—it is enough for him to tell of the books he has read, and his biography is done.
Poetry is the plough that turns up time in such a way that the abyssal strata of time, its black earth, appear on the surface.
My turn shall also come: I sense the spreading of a wing.
I was stopped in the dense Soviet wood by bandits who called themselves my judges.
Logic is the kingdom of the unexpected. To think logically means to be continually amazed.