Alexander Pushkin Quotes

Russian poet, playwright, and novelist (1799–1837)

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Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin (Russian: Алекса́ндр Серге́евич Пу́шкин) (6 June (26 May, O.S.) 1799 – 10 February (29 January, O.S.) 1837) was a Russian poet, playwright, and novelist of the Romantic era. He is considered by many to be the greatest Russian poet and the founder of modern Russian literature.

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Pen Names: Александр НКШП • Иван Петрович Белкин • Феофилакт Косичкин • P., Ст. Арз. (Старый Арзамасец) • А. Б.

Native Name: Александр Сергеевич Пушкин • Александръ Сергѣевичъ Пушкинъ

Alternative Names: Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin • Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin • Aleksandr Pushkin • Aleksandr Serge'evich Pushkin • Pushkin • Pouchkine Aleksandr Sergueevitch

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Tormented by spiritual thirst,
I dragged myself through a somber desert.
And a six-winged seraph
Appeared to meet me at the crossing of the ways.
He touched my eyes
With fingers as light as a dream:
And my prophetic eyes opened
Like those of a frightened eagle.
He touched my ears
And they were filled with noise and ringing:
And I heard the shuddering of the heavens,
And the flight of the angels in the heights,
And the movement of the beasts of the sea under the waters,
And the sound of the vine growing in the valley.
He bent down to my mouth
And tore out my tongue,
Sinful, decitful, and given to idle talk; with the right hand steeped in blood
He inserted the tongue of a wise serpent,
Into my benumbed mouth.
He clove my breast with a sword,
And plucked out my quivering heart,
And thrust a coal of live fire
Into my gaping breast.
Like a corpse I lay in the desert.
And the voice of God called out to me:
'Arise, O prophet, see and hear,
Be filled with my will,
Go forth over land and sea,
And set the hearts of men on fire with your Word.'

Admittedly, his dinners consisted only of two or three courses, and were prepared by an ex-soldier, but the champagne flowed like water.

But sad is he who lacks illusion, Whose head is steady, never stirred, Who hates each impulse, every word, Foreseeing always their conclusion; Whose heart experience has chilled, Whose urge to reverie is stilled.

A magic moment I remember:
I raised my eyes and you were there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare
I pray to mute despair and anguish,
To vain the pursuits world esteems,
Long did I hear your soothing accents,
Long did your features haunt my dreams.
Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scattered
The reveries that once were mine
And I forgot your soothing accents,
Your features gracefully divine.
In dark days of enforced retirement
I gazed upon grey skies above
With no ideals to inspire me
No one to cry for, live for, love.
Then came a moment of reinessance,
I looked up - you again are there
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare

– Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin, “A Magic Moment I Remember,” The Poetry of Alexander Sergeyevich (Portable Poetgry, January 27th 2014) Originally published 1821

печаль моя светла..

"Perhaps you'd like, you gentle fellow,
To hear what I'm prepared to say
On "kinfolk" and their implications?
Well, here's my view of close relations:
They're people whom we're bound to prize,
To honor, love, and idolize,
And following the old tradition,
To visit come the Christmas feast,
Or send a wish by mail at least;
All other days they've our permission,
To quite forget us if they please-
So grant them, God, long life and ease!"

"Herman stood before her. She drew back at sight of him, trembling violently. "Where have you been?" she asked in a frightened whisper. "In the bedchamber of the Countess. She is dead," was the calm reply. "My God! What are you saying?" cried the girl. "Furthermore, I believe that I was the cause of her death." The words of Tomsky flashed through Lisa's mind. Herman sat down and told her all. She listened with a feeling of terror and disgust. So those passionate letters, that audacious pursuit were not the result of tenderness and love. It was money that he desired. The poor girl felt that she had in a sense been an accomplice in the death of her benefactress. She began to weep bitterly. Herman regarded her in silence. "You are a monster!" exclaimed Lisa, drying her eyes. "I didn't intend to kill her; the pistol was not even loaded.

.. you mark the fate

The less we show our love to a woman,
Or please her less, and neglect our duty,
The more we trap and ruin her surely
In the flattering toils of philandery.

Light-minded society mercilessly persecutes in reality what it allows in theory

Mosalsky: Good folk! Maria Godunov and her son Feodor have poisoned themselves. We have seen their dead bodies. [The People are silent with horror.] Why are ye silent? Cry, Long live the Tsar Dimitry Ivanovich! [The People are speechless.]

Ah! heavy art thou, crown of Monomakh!

Привычка свыше нам дана:
Замена счастию она.

"I am not in the position to sacrifice the essentials of life in the hope of acquiring the luxuries." -Pushkin

Want of courage is the last thing to be pardoned by young men, who usually look upon bravery as the chief of all human virtues, and the excuse for every possible fault.