The earth is buzzing with metaphor

The people need poetry that will be their own secret To keep them awake forever, And bathe them in the bright-haired wave of its breathing.

Perhaps the whisper was born before lips, And the leaves in treelessness circled and flew, And those, to whom we impart our experience as bliss, Acquire their forms before we do

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

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

Only in Russia poetry is respected - it gets people killed.

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.

I love my poor earth because I have seen no other.

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

Perhaps my whisper was already born before my lips.

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

Life is not a hotel. Life is a battlefield.

There’s only one power in the world great enough to help us rise above the difficult things we face: the power of God.

See everything, overlook a great deal, correct a little.

When I'm asked about legacy, I say it's too early to talk about legacy.

In the dog-eat-dog economy, the Doberman is boss.

We all have competitive relationships with our siblings.

I hate the gooks. I will hate them as long as I live.

It is given to no human being to stereotype a set of truths, and walk safely by their guidance with his mind's eye closed.

Do you not weep? Other sins only speak; murder shrieks out. The element of water moistens the earth, But blood flies upwards and bedews the heavens.

One weeps not save when one is afraid, and that is why kings are tyrants.