Anna Akhmatova Quotes

All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there.

We know so very little about this strange planet we live on, this haunted world where all answers lead only to more mystery.

Consolation for those moments when you can't tell whether you're the divinest genius or the greatest fool in the world.

Now I am the unknown, the unknowable.

Cling to your insecurity, in this world, it's the only thing you can be sure of.

Where am I? Who am I? How did I come to be here? What is this thing called the world?

And indeed there will be time for the yellow smoke that slides along the street rubbing its back upon the window-panes; there will be time , there will be time to prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; there will be time to murder and create, and time for all the works and days of hands that lift and drop a question on your plate; time for you and time for me, and time yet for a hundred indecisions, and for a hundred visions and revisions, before the taking of toast and tea.

The world is incomprehensible. We won't ever understand it; we won't ever unravel its secrets. Thus we must treat the world as it is: a sheer mystery.

I don't know what I feel or what I want to feel. I don't know what to think or what I am.

I'm never sure why I do anything, to tell you the truth.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, it could be that I've lost my way.

On the outside one is a star. But in reality, one is completely alone, doubting everything. To experience this loneliness of soul is the hardest thing in the world.

I have no idea what I am talking about I'm trapped in this body and can't get out

So we reach into the raging chaos, and we cling to it, and we tell ourselves it has meaning, and that the world is good, and we are not evil, and we will all go home in the end.

I don't know what I am, but this isn't happiness.

Solving the following riddle will reveal the awful secret behind the universe, assuming you do not go utterly mad in the attempt. If you already happen to know the awful secret behind the universe, feel free to skip ahead.

The sun is not ridiculous, quite the contrary. On everything I like, on the rust of the construction girders, on the rotten boards of the fence, a miserly, uncertain light falls, like the look you give, after a sleepless night, on decisions made with enthusiasm the day before, on pages you have written in one spurt without crossing out a word.

We all question our sanity. Everyone has had an experience of loss of control of something.

You can't put your finger on who I am. I can't put my finger on who I am.

I've had a lot of struggles with depression. It's very easy for me to go to a bleak place, or for me to doubt humanity, myself, the world, my choices.

That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape---the world or the end of it?

I almost do not exist now and I know it; God knows what lives in me in place of me.

The world is like that -- incomprehensible and full of surprises .

I took the world into me, rearranged it, and sent it back out as a question: "Do you like me?

Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman -But who is that on the other side of you?