Osip Mandelstam Quotes

Enjoy the top 26 famous quotes, sayings and quotations by Osip Mandelstam.

Osip Mandelstam Quotes

Where to start? Everything cracks and shakes, The air trembles with similes, No one worlds better than another; the earth moans with metaphors.
— Osip Mandelstam —

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

— Osip Mandelstam

Everything is moved by love.

— Osip Mandelstam

I do not know how it is elsewhere, but here, in this country, poetry is a healing, life-giving thing, and people have not lost the gift of being able to drink of its inner strength. People can be killed for poetry here—a sign of unparalleled respect—because they are still capable of living by it.

— Osip Mandelstam

And I walk out of space
Into an overgrown garden of values,
And tear up seeming stability
And self-comprehension of causes.
And your, infinity, textbook
I read by myself, without people -
Leafless, savage medical book,
A problem book of gigantic radicals.

— Osip Mandelstam

I envy everyone secretly,
I secretly love everything.

— Osip Mandelstam

We live without feeling the country beneath our feet,
our words are inaudible from ten steps away.
Any conversation, however brief,
gravitates, gratingly, toward the Kremlin's mountain man.
His greasy fingers are thick as worms,
his words weighty hammers slamming their target.
His cockroach moustache seems to snicker,
and the shafts of his high-topped boots gleam.
Amid a rabble of scrawny-necked chieftains,
he toys with the favors of such homunculi.
One hisses, the other mewls, one groans, the other weeps;
he prowls thunderously among them, showering them with scorn.
Forging decree after decree, like horseshoes,
he pitches one to the belly, another to the forehead,
a third to the eyebrow, a fourth in the eye.
Every execution is a carnival
that fills his broad Ossetian chest with delight.

— Osip Mandelstam

I carry Sorrow, a grey
bird, sluggish, in my chest.

— Osip Mandelstam

For us, all that's left is kisses
tattered as the little bees
that die when they leave the hive.

— Osip Mandelstam

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.

— Osip Mandelstam

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