Author of quotes: Korney Ivanovich Chukovsky

In my opinion, the goal of storytellers is to cultivate humanity in a child at any cost - this marvelous ability of a person to worry about other people’s misfortunes, rejoice in the joys of another, experience someone else’s fate as their own, in order to awaken in a receptive child’s soul this precious ability to empathize, sympathize, to rejoice, without which a person is not a person.

Those adults act recklessly who, with absurd obsequiousness, rush to fulfill any desires of a child, expressed by deliberate whining, and thereby accustom him from the very first months of his life to the skillful use of tears.

Any sincere children's fairy tale is always born of optimism. She is alive with a blessed, childlike faith in the victory of good over evil.

A person who has not experienced a passionate passion for literature, poetry, music, painting, who has not gone through this emotional training, will forever remain a mental freak, no matter how successful he is in science and technology. When I first meet such people, I always notice their terrible flaw - the wretchedness of their psyche, their “stupidity” (in Herzen’s words). It is impossible to become a truly cultured person without experiencing aesthetic admiration for art. The one who has not experienced these sublime feelings has a different face, and the very sound of his voice is different.

The authorities, with the help of radio, television, and newspapers, spread among millions of swaggering vile songs - so that the population does not know either Akhmatova, or Blok, or Mandelstam ...

Yesterday was a poet of twenty-one years - from a fan of a physicist. Poems talented, but empty, read mannered and bombastic. I asked if she was the Institute fellow. She replied, as the most ordinary thing:
- Were my comrades - "the boys" - now it means boys, but drove them all.
Where? For what?
- They did not vote for our invasion of Czecho-Slovakia.
- Just for that?
Yes. It was the most talented our students are!
And this is done in all institutions.

And see, far under a pine tree
The house is painted,
And there on the balcony sitting
Kindly gray-haired doctor.
He Halka wing bandages
And the rabbit tells the tale.
At the entrance meets their affectionate elephant
To the doctor quietly leads to the balcony,
But crying and moaning a sick Sparrow.
It every moment weaker and weaker,
Came to his death passerines.

Don't get married! Wants every day to fight!

Is it true that in America all the chairs - electric?

Fear is a painful awareness of their own uniqueness.

When you play with me? Dad home from work - and now for the book. And my mother - what a lady! - immediately wash beginning.

And all Russia is torn,
until you are cured.

What a scary spoon! So now it state!

In my youth, naively I, like every young man, taught himself to think that beautiful girls and the thoughts and feelings is beautiful and it hurt me to part with this gracious illusion. How much later I knew beauties with brains are insignificant and petty feelings!