I don't like people who have never fallen or stumbled. Their virtue is lifeless and it isn't of much value. Life hasn't revealed its beauty to them.— Boris Pasternak
The most valuable Boris Pasternak quotes that will transform you to a better person
When a great moment knocks on the door of your life, it is often no louder than the beating of your heart, and it is very easy to miss it.
What is history? Its beginning is that of the centuries of systematic work devoted to the solution of the enigma of death, so that death itself may eventually be overcome. That is why people write symphonies, and why they discover mathematical infinity and electromagnetic waves.
Man is born to live, not to prepare for life.
The writer is the Faust of modern society, the only surviving individualist in a mass age. To his orthodox contemporaries he seems a semi-madman.
Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation's tears in shoulder blades.
To be a woman is a great adventure; To drive men mad is a heroic thing.
They don't ask much of you. They only want you to hate the things you love and to love the things you despise.
And why is it, thought Lara, that my fate is to see everything and take it all so much to heart?
You and I, it's as though we have been taught to kiss in heaven and sent down to earth together, to see if we know what we were taught.
They loved each other, not driven by necessity, by the "blaze of passion" often falsely ascribed to love. They loved each other because everything around them willed it, the trees and the clouds and the sky over their heads and the earth under their feet.
Art is unthinkable without risk and spiritual self-sacrifice.
What is laid down, ordered, factual is never enough to embrace the whole truth: life always spills over the rim of every cup.
As far as modern writing is concerned, it is rarely rewarding to translate it, although it might be easy. Translation is very much like copying paintings.
Man is born to live and not to prepare to live.
How wonderful to be alive, he thought. But why does it always hurt?
A conscious attempt to fall asleep is sure to produce insomnia, to try to be conscious of one's own digestion is a sure way to upset the stomach. Consciousness is a poison when we apply it to ourselves. Consciousness is a light directed outward. it's like the headlights on a locomotive—turn them inward and you'd have a crash.
Oh, how one wishes sometimes to escape from the meaningless dullness of human eloquence, from all those sublime phrases, to take refuge in nature, apparently so inarticulate, or in the wordlessness of long, grinding labor, of sound sleep, of true music, or of a human understanding rendered speechless by emotion!
Most people experience love, without noticing that there is anything remarkable about it.
At the moment of childbirth, every woman has the same aura of isolation, as though she were abandoned, alone.
I have been writing in spurts, bit by bit.
It is incredibly difficult. Everything is corroded, broken, dismantled; everything is covered with hardened layers of accumulated insensitivity, deafness, entrenched routine. It is disgusting.
He realised, more vividly than ever before, that art had two constant, two unending preoccupations: it is always meditating upon death and it is always thereby creating life.
That's metaphysics, my dear fellow. It's forbidden me by my doctor, my stomach won't take it.
Love is not weakness. It is strong. Only the sacrament of marriage can contain it.
The whole of life is symbolic because the whole of it has meaning.
A corner draft fluttered the flame And the white fever of temptation Upswept its angel wings that cast A cruciform shadow.
It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table; A candle burned.
Good-bye... why am I hemorrhaging ?
Immensely grateful, touched, proud, astonished, abashed.
Farewell, my great one, my own, farewell, my pride, farewell, my swift, deep, dear river, how I loved your daylong splashing, how I loved to plunge into your cold waves.
Work is the order of the day, just as it was at one time, with our first starts and our best efforts. Do you remember? Therein lies its delight. It brings back the forgotten; one's stores of energy, seemingly exhausted, come back to life.
You are eternity's hostage A captive of mine.
I come here to speak poetry. It will always be in the grass. It will also be necessary to bend down to hear it. It will always be too simple to be discussed in assemblies.
What for centuries raised man above the beast is not the cudgel but the irresistible power of unarmed truth.
Art is interested in life at the moment when the ray of power is passing through it.
I don't like purely philosophical works.
I think a little philosophy should be added to life and art by way of seasoning, but to make it one's specialty seems to me as strange as eating nothing but horseradish." - Lara, from Doctor Zhivago
As in an explosion, I would erupt with all the wonderful things I saw and understood in this world.
Even so, one step from my grave, I believe that cruelty, spite, The powers of darkness will in time, Be crushed by the spirit of light.
I think that if the beast who sleeps in man could be held down by threats of any kind, whether of jail or retribution, then the highest emblem of humanity would be the lion tamer, not the prophet who sacrificed himself.... What for centuries raised man above the beast is not the cudgel but the irresistible power of unarmed truth.
No deep and strong feeling, such as we may come across here and there in the world, is unmixed with compassion. The more we love, the more the object of our love seems to us to be a victim.
I hate everything you say, but not enough to kill you for it.
Art always serves beauty, and beauty is the joy of possessing form, and form is the key to organic life since no living thing can exist without it.
Art has two constant, two unending concerns: It always meditates on death and thus always creates life. All great, genuine art resembles and continues the Revelation of St John.
It is no longer possible for lyric poetry to express the immensity of our experience. Life has grown too cumbersome, too complicated. We have acquired values which are best expressed in prose.
Oh, what a love it was, utterly free, unique, like nothing else on earth! Their thoughts were like other people's songs.
Only the solitary seek the truth, and they break with all those who don't love it sufficiently
If it's so painful to love and absorb electricity, how much more painful it is to be a woman, to be the electricity, to inspire love.
Our evenings are farewells. Our parties are testaments. So that the secret stream of suffering. May warm the cold of life.
How many things in the world deserve our loyalty? Very few indeed.
I think one should be loyal to immortality, which is another word for life, a stronger word for it.
It´s a good thing when a man is different from your image of him.
Is shows he isn´t a type. If he were, it would be the end of him as a man. But if you can´t place him in a category, it means that at least a part of him is what a human being ought to be. He has risen above himself, he has a grain of immortality.