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Christmas Pie Lo! now is come our joyfull'st feast! Let every man be jolly; Each room with ivy leaves is dressed, And every post with holly. Now all our neighbours' chimneys smoke, And Christmas blocks are burning; Their ovens they with bakemeats choke, And all their spits are turning. Without the door let sorrow lie, And if for cold it hap to die, We'll bury it in a Christmas pie, And ever more be merry. George Wither		Thursday Jan 15, 2026
		Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969

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In the terrible years of the Yezhov terror I spent seventeen months waiting in line outside the prison in Leningrad. One day somebody in the crowd identified me ... and asked me in a whisper ... 'Can you describe this?' And I said: 'I can.' Anna Akhmatova

Quote Author: Anna Akhmatova

Anna Akhmatova

Anna Akhmatova

Anna Akhmatova (Russian: А́нна Ахма́това, real name А́нна Андре́евна Горе́нко) (June 23 [O.S. June 11] 1889 — March 5, 1966) was the pen name of Anna Andreevna Gorenko, the leader and the heart and soul of the Saint Petersburg tradition of Russian poetry for half a century.

Akhmatova's work ranges from short lyric poems to universalized, ingeniously structured cycles, such as Requiem (1935-40), her tragic masterpiece on the Stalinist terror. Her work addresses a variety of themes including time and memory, the fate of creative women, and the difficulties of living and writing in the shadow of Stalinism.

Other Anna Akhmatova Quotes

Courage: Great Russian word, fit for the songs of our childrens children, pure on their tongues, and free.

Who will grieve for this woman? Does she not seem too insignificant for our concern? Yet in my heart I never will deny her, Who suffered death because she chose to turn.

And from my motionless bronze-lidded sockets may the melting snow, like teardrops, slowly trickle and a prison dove coo somewhere, over and over, as the ships sail softly down the flowing Neva.

That was a time when only the dead could smile.

I should be proud to have my memory graced, but only if the monument be placed ... here, where I endured three hundred hours in line before the implacable iron bars.

No foreign sky protected me, no stranger's wing shielded my face. I stand as witness to the common lot survivor of that time, that place.

In the terrible years of the Yezhov terror I spent seventeen months waiting in line outside the prison in Leningrad. One day somebody in the crowd identified me ... and asked me in a whisper ... 'Can you describe this?' And I said: 'I can.'