Dejan Stojanovic Quotes

The game itself is bigger than the winning.

Creators of history always play with our impotence and our ignorance.

Creating means living.

A number is still very accurate, but its role is changed.In the changed role this number enriches the silence.

From everything, nothing looks to nothing.

All dust is the same dust. Temporarily separated To go peacefully And enjoy the eternal nap.

Nothing is made, nothing disappears. The same changes, at the same places, never stopping.

Too often, feelings arrive too soon, waiting for thoughts that often come too late.

There is something perfect to be found in the imperfect: the law keeps balance through the juxtaposition of beauty, which gains perfection through nurtured imperfection.

Life eats life to live.

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

The night is still waiting.

Don’t pay attention to those who offer too much.

Sun is a hearthstone, a merry-go-round of extinguished hearthstones.

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.

The world is God's salvation.

Be aware of the high notes, of the blissful faces and their soft messages, and listen for the silent message of a highly decorated gift.

If you are good, they say you are weak.

They forget that love is not a science but an inherent state of mind; they forget that sex is practiced by animals without textbooks and that it is not such a secret that requires a complete science, courses and special training. And so impotent, with artificial stars on the ceilings of their rooms, they become the main teachers on the way to the stars.

Holy books are an insult to a God with good intentions.

Words rich in meaning can be cheap in sound effects.

The world is a navy in an empty ocean.

Wherever I go, I meet myself.

To jump over centuries In one step is impossible. Jump too high or far, You’ll be way too late.

In a real poem a sound does not swallow a letter, but a letter swallows a sound.

I fly through memory to find a newborn love.

Your head is a lit chamber.

New Rome will be destroyedBy the attacks of new vandals.God always remains silent.

The world contained in a seed, Determined by its program.

Burning the witch Giordano Bruno is one more wound inflicted on Christ’s body.

Long ago we conquered our passions looking at ourselves in the mirror of eternity.

The eyesight for an eagle is what thought is to a man.

There is no born lover, There is no born Don Juan, For we are all lovers.

All those big words produce disgust today.

I imagined I was God for a millisecond And became speechless for a long time.

To the knights of faith nobody believes.

Dream by making and make by dreaming.

To go against the grain is the secret of bravery.

Possible is more a matter of attitude, A matter of decision, to choose Among the impossible possibilities, When one sound opportunity Becomes a possible solution.

We don’t know who was tricked by whom. Did the writer deceive the word, or did the word deceive the writer?

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Is that all?

Beauty is a cheap word, but beauty remains priceless.

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

Everything is much easier in the half-blind and half-deaf world of modern giants that seduce processions of the blind into the world of great emptiness. In their sky the stars shine and their names live in the parallel and independently of their work.

When magic through nerves and reason passes, Imagination, force, and passion will thunder. The portrait of the world is changed.

Perfection seems sterile; it is final, no mystery in it; it's a product of an assembly line.

Either all lights are turned off or one inner light is missing.

Nothing is part of everything.

With your goal you make the one.

How many unuttered words died in the heads of those for whom a word was too expensive.

We will go far away, to nowhere, to conquer, to fertilize until we become tired. Then we will stop and there will be our home.

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

Without nothing, everything would be nothing.

A word only writes Its night and ridesIts dream.

Deceit dispels the boredom of the Absolute.

Why poetry, you ask? Because of life, I answer.

Cosmos is God, who whispered the syllable of life.

What you gain here, you lose on the other side.

You mark and celebrate errors, transforming failures into successes.

Our desire to say more grows bigger and what to say about it, except that saying is not always about saying, growing is not always about growing.