Chest hurts when I breathe

Marina Ivanovna has become one of the brightest, distinctive and bold poets of the Silver Age. She created her poems not with her mind, but with her soul. For her, writing was not so much a profession as a necessary means of expression. For the entire difficult life Marina Tsvetaeva has accumulated so many desperate feelings and burning emotions that the only way to express this was to clothe her sore in poetic and prosaic lines.

The first collection of her poems, The Evening Album, was released when Tsvetaeva was just 18. She released it for her money. The first step in the literary field – and immediately a challenge to society and established traditions. In those days, it was accepted that serious poets first publish individual poems in magazines, and only then, having gained fame, publish their own books. But Marina Ivanovna never followed everyone, did not obey orders that she did not understand. She obeyed only that which responded in her heart. Perhaps, for this reason, there are so many sharp turns and tragic moments in her fate. When you go your own way in defiance of everything, you always risk it.

But she was not afraid to put everything on the map. Her loud voice of the poet sounded even when the revolution began in the country, when poverty forced her to give daughters to the orphanage, and even when she herself was forced to leave her homeland after her husband, Sergei Efron. Many misfortunes fell upon her, but each time she struggled through them with willpower. Painfully touching the strings of the soul, they turned into poignant poetry or remained on the pages of a personal diary. The older daughter, Ariadna, Tsvetaeva managed to pick up from the shelter, but the youngest, Irina, died within its walls. In her emigration, the poetess had a son, George, and Marina Ivanovna herself had friendly relations with literary circles: she printed her poems, edited in magazines, communicated with many famous Russian poets who also fled the country.

However, in the second half of the 30s, new tragic events occurred in her life. The husband was involved in political assassination and fled back to the USSR. And in relations with her daughter, Tsvetaeva had a serious rift – Ariadne left her mother’s house, and soon, just as her father returned to her homeland. For Marina Ivanovna it was a big blow. She was responsible for her little son, war was brewing in Europe, and there were no other people around who could help and support.

Tsvetaeva comes to the USSR, but it does not bring relief. On the contrary, the clouds are gathering even more over her head. Almost immediately after the return, the husband and daughter were arrested, and the Second World War, which spread throughout Europe, approached the borders of the Soviet Union. She goes with her son to Elabuga. Boris Pasternak came to help prepare for the move and pack things. He brought a rope to bandage his suitcase. She turned out to be very strong, and Pasternak even joked: “The rope will endure everything, even hang yourself.” He did not even suspect that his words would turn out to be prophetic – afterwards he was told that it was on this ill-fated rope that Tsvetaeva hanged herself in Elabuga. Even the most powerful people have a moment when the last drop overflows the cup of sorrows that they are able to endure.

Tsvetaeva did not live for the future, she always spent herself without a trace. Love sometimes fell on her like snow on her head. Even the bonds of marriage could not be stopped by sudden feelings. She rushed into the pool, risked, was happy and unbearably unhappy.

Others said: "Marina, so no one does!", and she always answered: "And who am I!".

We chose the most vivid quotes of the poetess from her personal diaries, autobiographical works, letters and memoirs.

“I can’t – at least kill me –– so that a person would think that I need something from him. I need everybody, for I am insatiable. But others, more often than not, are not even hungry, hence the ever-intense attention: do I need one? ”

“Women love not men, but Love; men love not Love, but women. Women never change. Men are always “

“For complete consistency of souls, consistency of breathing is needed, because what is breathing, if not the rhythm of the soul? So, in order for people to understand each other, it is necessary that they walk or lie alongside. ”

“What can you know about me if you didn’t sleep with me and drank ?!”

““ Beloved ”- theatrically,“ Lover ”- frankly,“ Friend ”- indefinitely. Unloved country! “

“Every time when I find out that a person loves me – I am surprised, I do not like – I am surprised, but most of all I am surprised when a person is indifferent to me”

“The first love look is the shortest distance between two points, that divine straight line which the second is not”

“The first victory of a woman over a man is the story of a man about his love for another. And her final victory is the story of this other about his love for him, about his love for her. The secret became clear, your love is mine. And while this is not, you can not sleep well “

“Humor and good parenting: kissing you”

“To love is to see a person as God intended him and his parents did not fulfill. Not to love is to see a person as his parents have carried it out. To fall out of love is to see instead: a table, a chair. ”

“Listen and remember: anyone who laughs at the misfortune of another is a fool or a scoundrel; most often – and that, and the other … When a person gets a fool – it’s not funny … When a person is doused with mud, it’s not funny … When a person gets a footboard – it’s not funny … When a person is beaten in the face – it’s mean. Such a laugh is a sin … “

“Thanks to those who loved me, for they gave me the beauty to love others, and thanks to those who didn’t love me, because they gave me the beauty to love themselves”

“Long, long, – from my very childhood, since I remember myself – it seemed to me that I want to be loved. Now I know and say to everyone: I do not need love, I need understanding. For me, this is love. And what you call love (sacrifice, loyalty, jealousy), take care for others, for the other, I don’t need it. ”

“Sometimes we can humanely love ten, lovingly – many – two. Inhuman – always one … “

“Sense does not need experience, it knows in advance that it is doomed. The feeling has nothing to do on the periphery of the visible, it is in the center, it is the center itself. Feeling nothing to look for on the roads, it knows – what will come and lead – to itself “

“I don’t love you anymore. Nothing happened – life happened. I do not think about you either in the morning, waking up, or at night, falling asleep, neither on the street, nor to the music – never. If you had loved another woman, I would have smiled – with an arrogant tenderness – and thought – with curiosity – about you and about her. I am out of the game. ”

“Oh my God, and they say that there is no soul! What hurts me now? “Not a tooth, not a head, not a hand, not a chest, – no, chest, in the chest, where you breathe, – I breathe deeply: it does not hurt, but it hurts all the time, it hurts all the time, it is intolerable!”

Chest hurts when I breathe

“When you love a person, you always want him to leave to dream about him”

“People are jealous of only one thing: loneliness. Do not forgive only one thing: loneliness. Revenge for just one thing: loneliness. To that – that – for daring to be alone “

“To live is unsuccessful to cut and constantly to patch, and nothing holds (nothing holds me, nothing to hold on to,” forgive me for this sad, harsh play on words). When I try to live, I feel like a poor little seamstress that can never do a beautiful thing, which only does that spoils and hurts itself, and which, having thrown away everything: scissors, matter, threads, is taken to sing. At the window beyond which it rains endlessly. ”

“I am silent, I don’t even look at you and feel that for the first time I’m jealous. It is a mixture of pride, offended self-love, bitterness, imaginary indifference and deepest indignation. ”

“The whole point is that we love, so that our heart beats – at least shattered! I have always been shattered, and all my poems are the very silver heart-smithereens. ”

“I would never, you know, have not painted my lips. Ugly? No, charming. Just every fool on the street might think, I am – for him “

“If you are considered to be a close friend, you made me suffer a lot, but if you were a stranger, – you brought me only good. I never felt you neither like this nor the other; I fought in myself for everyone, that is, against everyone. ”

“And often, sitting for the first time with a man, in the midst of an indifferent conversation, a mad thought: -“ What if I kiss him now ?! ”- Erotic insanity? – Not. It must be the same as the player before the bet, “Will I put it or not?” Put or not? – With the difference that real players will “put”

“I want to sleep with you – sleep and sleep. A wonderful folk word, how deep, how true, how unequivocal, how exactly what it says. Just sleep. And nothing else. No, still: bury your head in your left shoulder, and your hand on your right shoulder – and nothing more. No, not even in the deepest dream, to know that it is you. And also: listen to how your heart sounds. And – to kiss him “

“There are so many things in life that cannot be expressed in words. Too few words on earth … “

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