Dejan Stojanovic Quotes

He had an answer to almost everything and he retired at an early age.

Use the wings of the flying Universe, Dream with open eyes; See in darkness.

About Author

Dejan Stojanović (Serbian Cyrillic: Дејан Стојановић, pronounced [dějan stojǎːnoʋitɕ]; born 11 March 1959) is a Serbian American poet, writer, essayist, philosopher, businessman, and former journalist. His poetry is characterized by a recognizable system of thought, and poetic devices that border on philosophy and a highly reflective overall tone. According to critic Petar V. Arbutina, "Stojanović belongs to the small and autochthonous circle of poets who have been the main creative and artistic force of the Serbian poetry in the last several decades."

There is no competition of sounds between a nightingale and a violin.

To hear never-heard sounds, To see never-seen colors and shapes, To try to understand the imperceptible Power pervading the world; To fly and find pure ethereal substances That are not of matter But o...

Since nothing is absolute There is no absolute silence, Only an appearance Of temporary peace.

To write good poems is the secret of brevity.

There is another alphabet, whispering from every leaf, singing from every river, shimmering from every sky.

We traveled long and forgot why poetry was invented.

Since there is no real silence, Silence will contain all the sounds, All the words, all the languages, All knowledge, all memory.

In trying to be perfect, He perfected the art of anonymity, Became imperceptible And arrived nowhere from nowhere.

Busy with the ugliness of the expensive success We forget the easiness of free beautyLying sad right around the corner, Only an instant removed, Unnoticed and squandered.

Quixote shines from Lorca and Picasso, From Dalí and El Greco,

Accidents are not accidents but precise arrivals at the wrong right time.

It is beautiful to express love and even more beautiful to feel it.

Total knowledge is annihilation Of the desire to see, to touch, to feel The world sensed only through senses And immune to the knowledge without feeling.

Entering a cell, penetrating deep as a flying saucer to find a new galaxy would be an honorable task for a new scientist interested more in the inner state of the soul than in outer space.

Marquez was not born in Colombia.He was born in Macondo, And his Macondo is his La Mancha.

He tries to find the exit from himself but there is no door.

Neruda had his first dream, First meeting with the Moon and the Sun In sunny La Mancha, hiding in his heart,Where he learned how to sing like a nightingale.

Oblivion cures the old wounds.