Eugenio Montale

Eugenio
Montale
1896
1981

Italian Poet, Prose Writer, Editor and Translator, Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature

Author Quotes

And then you hear, even if you repeat as you can, stop midway or high sea , that there is no stopping for us, but the road, still the road, and that the journey is always to start over.

Go, words, betrayed the bite secreted in vain, the wind blowing in the heart. The real reason is most of those who keep silent

I read long ago that a man has chosen to Moscow on a hunger strike. His name is Andrej Sackharov and is a famous physicist. It seems important that a man of science take the weapon of protest that was to Gandhi.

Poets is useless to ask for the understanding of certain things

Thick white cloud of moths crazy swirls around the dull lights and on the parapets lays down a blanket on which scricchia like sugar on the footÂ… and the water continues to gnaw the banks and more no one is innocent.

Art is the production of objects for consumption, to be used and discarded while waiting for a new world in which man will have succeeded in freeing himself of everything, even of his own consciousness.

Happiness, for you we walk on a knife edge. To the eyes you are a flickering light, to the feet, thin ice that cracks; and so may no one touch you who loves you.

I was a poet who wrote an autobiography poetic without ceasing to beat at the gates of the impossible. I would not dare to speak of myth in my poetry, but there is a desire to question life. At the beginning I was skeptical, influenced by Schopenhauer . But in my verses of maturity I tried to hope, to beat the wall, to see what could be the other side of the wall, convinced that life has a meaning that escapes us. I knocked desperately as one who waits for a response.

Scotellaro could leave us a hundred poems that remain some of the most significant of our time ... in him the dough between the vein and the vein that I would say international folk have found happiness unusual accent.

This proves that great lyric poetry can die, be reborn, die again, but will always remain one of the most outstanding creations of the human soul.

At the inner circle of the disciples and friends of the Cross - composed mostly of men representing the official culture (school, universities, academies) I never belonged. But instead, I breathed the air of other environments where the teaching of the Cross had penetrated inland perhaps indirect.

His natural gift is to see without being seen and to be present as it can be a fact or rather a gift of nature. [ Sergio Solmi ]

In reality art is always for everyone and for no one.

Slowly poetry becomes visual because it paints images, but it is also musical: it unites two arts into one.

Today not even a universal fire could make the torrential poetic production of our time disappear. But it is exactly a question of production, that is, of hand-made products which are subject to the laws of taste and fashion.

Back to event the sun and the widespread voices, not the usual noises door.

Holidays - Have no pity

In the most glorious days of the art, the artists... expressed themselves by imitating the great artists of the past, and were imitating themselves. A masterpiece was an ' imitation unsuccessful.

Strangely, Dante's Divine Comedy did not produce a prose of that creative height or it did so after centuries.

Too many lives are needed to make just one.

Bring me then the plant that points to those bright Lucidites swirling up from the earth, And life itself exhaling that central breath! Bring me the sunflower crazed with the love of light

However, poetry does not live solely in books or in school anthologies.

It has often been observed that the repercussion of poetic language on prose language can be considered a decisive cut of a whip.

The genius unfortunately does not speak | with his lips. | The genius leaves some traces of paw | like the hare in the snow.

True poetry is similar to certain pictures whose owner is unknown and which only a few initiated people know.

Author Picture
First Name
Eugenio
Last Name
Montale
Birth Date
1896
Death Date
1981
Bio

Italian Poet, Prose Writer, Editor and Translator, Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature