17 quotes
Drunk from the bitter truth,/I refuse all other wine.
Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005)
Somewhere in the world, in a city/I am flowering like a lily.
Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005)
Reality and dreams are weaving together, flowing into each other and I don't know where one ends and the other begins.
Long and sorrowful stretched out those days.
During Sleepless Nights (1909)
My books, my great friends, gaze down on me with quiet resentment, calling me to them.
The creative person wears a mask... just like a sculptor wears an apron."
Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005)
Above is a patch of sky, but this has already turned grey, cold and deeply calm. Slowly, slowly, as though embarrassed, long, soft, dark shadows crawl in through the open window, stealing their way into the room, growing bold, and making themselves comfortable in every corner.
No sooner does one rise a little above one's own petty joys and pains, than crystal clear wellsprings of new joy and new pain open up.
The authentic artist carries within himself another world to which the ordinary person has no access. The great value of the poet is that he enriches us with new, thoroughly experienced feelings, with unseen or differently seen landscapes.
Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005)
I know that my devils have knives instead of teeth, and snakes instead of fingers. I can't do very much about that. I can't just get rid of them.
Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005)
The moment had passed, and, disquieted, she walked away from me, carrying within her an ocean of pain and happiness, a wild storm of conflict and struggle.
During Sleepless Nights (1909)
She looked at me and yet she did not see me.
During Sleepless Nights (1909)
"A man over forty is in his prime. When can one live if not now? When does one know how to live if not in these years? It's not with twenty, but with forty that one comes into one's true youth. In France they understand these things.
Say this: until her death
She faithfully protected
With her bare hands
The flame entrusted to her
And in that same fire
She burned.
Drunk from the Bitter Truth: The Poems of Anna Margolin (2005)
I have no desire for rhetoric, for platitudes, and cannot find the words as deep and great as my awe for mankind, as my awe for its creation. Not with words-I will prove it with my life.
During the whole journey I thought about my mother. Somehow I now found her easier to understand; I felt closer to her-she had been transformed into a sister in suffering.
During Sleepless Nights (1909)
My face burns with shame.