I'm drowning in papers.

Memory at last has what I sought.

Nothing's a gift, it's all on loan

Dying - you can't do that to a cat.

After every war someone has to tidy up.

There's simply too much fuss about myself.

I'm one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.

Somewhere out there the world must have an end.

I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.

Get to know other worlds, if only for comparison.

And whatever I do will become forever what I've done.

I started earning a living as a poet rather early on.

Even a graphomaniac is an extremely complicated person.

Life lasts but a few scratches of the claw in the sand.

Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice.

Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice?

Even the worst book can give us something to think about.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.

There is so much Everything that Nothing is hidden quite nicely

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.

I like being near the top of a mountain. One can't get lost here.

Whatever inspiration is, it's born from a continuous "I don't know.

All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.

Such certainty is beautiful, but uncertainty is more beautiful still

Out of every hundred people, those who always know better: fifty-two.

The joy of writing. The power of preserving. Revenge of a mortal hand.

You know, I'm worried about Szymborska. I wish she would stop smoking.

You can find the entire cosmos lurking in its least remarkable objects.

I'm fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.

I cannot imagine any writer who would not fight for his peace and quiet.

I don't know the role I'm playing. I only know it's mine, non-convertible.

What does the world get from two people/who exist in a world of their own?

Carry on, then, if only for the moment that it takes a tiny galaxy to blink!

I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.

Poetic talent doesn't operate in a vacuum. There is a spirit of Polish poetry.

It's just not easy to explain to someone else what you don't understand yourself.

Existentialists are monumentally and monotonously serious; they don't like to joke.

All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.

In every tragedy, an element of comedy is preserved. Comedy is just tragedy reversed.

They say the first love's most important. That's very romantic, but not my experience.

Keep up the good work, if only for a while, if only for the twinkling of a tiny galaxy.

Get to know other worlds, if only for comparison. I am near, too near for him to dream of me.

This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile.

It's a well-known fact: in order to follow doctor's orders, you have to be healthy as a horse.

No one in my family has ever died of love. What happened, happened, but nothing myth-inspiring.

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

They say the first sentence in any speech is always the hardest. Well, that one's behind me, anyway.

Take it not amiss, O speech, that I borrow weighty words, and later try hard to make them seem light.

Even boredom should be described with gusto. How many things are happening on a day when nothing happens?

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