Alexander Pushkin
Russian poet and playwright
| Date of Birth | : | 06 Jun, 1799 |
| Date of Death | : | 10 Feb, 1837 |
| Place of Birth | : | Moscow, Russia |
| Profession | : | Poet, Playwright |
| Nationality | : | Russian |
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin was a Russian poet, playwright, and novelist of the Romantic era. He is considered by many to be the greatest Russian poet, as well as the founder of modern Russian literature.
Pushkin was born into the Russian nobility in Moscow. His father, Sergey Lvovich Pushkin, belonged to an old noble family. His maternal great-grandfather was Major-General Abram Petrovich Gannibal, a nobleman of African origin who was kidnapped from his homeland by the Ottomans, then freed by the Russian Emperor and raised in the Emperor's court household as his godson.
Ancestry
Pushkin's father, Sergei Lvovich Pushkin (1767–1848), was descended from a distinguished family of the Russian nobility that traced its ancestry back to the 12th century. Pushkin's mother, Nadezhda (Nadya) Ossipovna Gannibal (1775–1836), was descended through her paternal grandmother from German and Scandinavian nobility. She was the daughter of Ossip Abramovich Gannibal (1744–1807) and his wife, Maria Alekseyevna Pushkina (1745–1818).
Quotes
Total 20 Quotes
I was not born to amuse the Tsars.
Dearer to me than a host of base truths is the illusion that exalts.
People are so like their first mother Eve: what they are given doesn't take their fancy. The serpent is forever enticing them to come to him, to the tree of mystery. They must have the forbidden fruit, or paradise will not be paradise for them.
Thus people--so it seems to me-- Become good friends from sheer ennui.
Ecstasy is a glass full of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.
The less we love her when we woo her, The more we draw a woman in,
Better the illusions that exalt us than ten thousand truths.
Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world than two bodies can occupy one and the same place in the physical world.
Play interests me very much," said Hermann: "but I am not in the position to sacrifice the necessary in the hope of winning the superfluous.
It's a lucky man who leaves early from life's banquet, before he's drained to the dregs his goblet - full of wine; yes, it's a lucky man who has not read life's novel to the end, but has been wise enough to part with it abruptly - like me with my Onegin.
