The Last Moments Slipped By,

And Remember: You Must Never, Under Any Circumstances, Despair. To Hope And To Act, These Are Our Duties In Misfortune.

Lara Walked Along The Tracks Following A Path Worn By Pilgrims And Then Turned Into The Fields. Here She Stopped And, Closing Her Eyes, Took A Deep Breath Of The Flower-scented Air Of The Broad Expanse Around Her. It Was Dearer To Her Than Her Kin, Better Than A Lover, Wiser Than A Book. For A Moment She Rediscovered The Purpose Of Her Life. She Was Here On Earth To Grasp The Meaning Of Its Wild Enchantment And To Call Each Thing By Its Right Name, Or, If This Were Not Within Her Power, To Give Birth Out Of Love For Life To Successors Who Would Do It In Her Place.

As Before The Collapse, The Setting Sun Brushed The Tiles, Brought Out The Warm Brown Glow On The Wallpaper, And Hung The Shadow Of The Birch On The Wall As If It Were A Woman's Scarf.

How Many Things In The World Deserve Our Loyalty? Very Few Indeed. I Think One Should Be Loyal To Immortality, Which Is Another Word For Life, A Stronger Word For It.

During The Last Years Of Mayakovski's Life, When All Poetry Had Ceased To Exist . . . Literature Had Stopped.