Zygmunt Krasiński quotes

Not that I rise against thee, Poetry, Mother of Beauty, of ideal Life! But I must pity him condemned to dwell Within the limits of these whirling worlds In dying agonies, or yet to be, Doomed to sad memories, or prophecies, Perchance remorse, or vague presentiments,- Who gives himself to thee! for everywhere Thou ruinest wholly those who consecrate Themselves, with all they are, to thee alone, Who solely live the voices of thy glory! (Zygmunt Krasiński)
Painting the sensual with thy hues divine,- Thou turn'st away thy face, while scattering Perchance upon his brow some fading flowers, Of which he strives to twine a funeral crown, Spending his life to weave a wreath of death! View quote
Zygmunt Krasiński
Alas! thou sufferest, too, although thy pangs Bring naught to birth, nothing create, nor serve! View quote
Zygmunt Krasiński