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Then came a moment of renaissance,_x000D_ _x000D_ I looked up - you again are there,_x000D_ _x000D_ A fleeting vision, the quintessence_x000D_ _x000D_ Of all that`s beautiful and rare.
Alexander Pushkin
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Interpretation

What this quote means

The quote captures a moment of inspiration where beauty is recognized and cherished.

In this quote, Pushkin expresses a profound moment of enlightenment and appreciation for beauty that appears fleetingly in life. This moment symbolizes a renaissance, a rebirth of inspiration in the presence of something or someone extraordinary, emphasizing the transient nature of beauty and the emotional impact it can have on an observer.

Themes

BeautyInspirationMomentVisionArt

In practice

Example use cases

In a speech about the power of art, one could reference this quote to emphasize how fleeting moments of inspiration shape creativity.

More from Alexander Pushkin

Thank you, darling, for learning to play chess. It is an absolute necessity for any well organized family. (in a letter to his wife)
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I loved you; even now I may confess, Some embers of my love their fire retain; But do not let it cause you more distress, I do not want to sadden you again. Hopeless and tongue tied, yet I loved you dearly With pangs the jealous and the timid know; So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely, I pray God grant another love you so.
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I loved you: and, it may be, from my soul The former love has never gone away, But let it not recall to you my dole; I wish not sadden you in any way. I loved you silently, without hope, fully, In diffidence, in jealousy, in pain; I loved you so tenderly and truly, As let you else be loved by any man.
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I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.
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My dreams, my dreams! What has become of their sweetness? What indeed has become of my youth?
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I do not like Moscow life. You live here not as you want to live, but as old women want you to.
Alexander PushkinRead

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