A raznochinets needs no memory—it is enough for him to tell of the books he has read, and his biography is done.

Where to start? Everything cracks and shakes, The air trembles with similes, No one world's better than another; the earth moans with metaphors.

My turn shall also come: I sense the spreading of a wing.

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.

Logic is the kingdom of the unexpected. To think logically means to be continually amazed.

I was stopped in the dense Soviet wood by bandits who called themselves my judges.

Perhaps my whisper was already born before my lips.