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A rhyme's
…
a barrel of dynamite.
A line is a fuse
that's lit.
The line smoulders,
the rhyme explodes –
and by a stanza
a city
is blown to bits.

— Vladimir Mayakovsky A Conversation with the Inspector of Taxes about Poetry (1926)

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More quotes by Vladimir Mayakovsky

Art must not be concentrated in dead shrines called museums. lt must be spread everywhere – on the streets, in the trams, factories, workshops, and in the workers' homes.

Shrine or Factory? (1918)

On the pavement
of my trampled soul
the steps of madmen
weave the prints of rude crude words.

If you wish,
I shall grow irreproachably tender:
not a man, but a cloud in trousers!

The Cloud in Trousers (1915)

Love's ship has foundered on the rocks of life.
We're quits: stupid to draw up a list
of mutual sorrows, hurts and pains.

No gray hairs streak my soul,
no grandfatherly fondness there!
I shake the world with the might of my voice,
and walk – handsome,
twentytwoyearold.

The Cloud in Trousers (1915)

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Vladimir Mayakovsky (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.