On Hemingway: Have you noticed how lonely all people in his works are - no relatives, no family?

Anna Akhmatova

Anna Akhmatova

Profession: Poet
Nationality: Russian

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A town loved with bitter love.

All has been looted, betrayed, sold; black death's wing flashed ahead.

Dostoyevsky knew a lot but not everything. He, for instance, thought that if you kill a human you'll turn into Raskolnikov. But we know now that one can kill five - ten, one hundred people - and go to the theatre in the evening.

You do not know just what you've been forgiven.

My shadow serves as the friend I crave.

I've got no more tears or explanations.

Real tenderness can't be confused, It's quiet and can't be heard.

I should be proud to have my memory graced, but only if the monument be placed... here, where I endured three hundred hours in line before the implacable iron bars.

But what would it have cost you to make people happy and agree that you'd had an affair?" She replied very gravely, "I have lived my own unique life, and my life lacks nothing; it has no need to borrow from other people.

I am in the middle of it: chaos and poetry; poetry and love and again, complete chaos. Pain, disorder, occasional clarity; and at the bottom of it all: only love; poetry. Sheer enchantment, fear, humiliation. It all comes with love.

All that I am hangs by a thread tonight.

In those years only the dead smiled, Glad to be at rest: And Leningrad city swayed like A needless appendix to its prisons.

I always think about the past, it's so large and bright.

Courage: Great Russian word, fit for the songs of our children's children, pure on their tongues, and free.