| Author | Epoch | Work | Type | Quote | Term |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | Ambrians, Umbrians and Arabs (Naira Gelashvili, Works, Vol. 1, Tbilisi, 2010) | Prose |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | Ambrians, Umbrians and Arabs (Naira Gelashvili, Works, Vol. 1, Tbilisi, 2010) | Prose | “She stopped her finger at one place, where the “line of life” meandered through the foot of “Venus’ mound”. (pg. 367) |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | Ambrians, Umbrians and Arabs (Naira Gelashvili, Works, Vol. 1, Tbilisi, 2010) | Prose | “The pink dress flowed like water down these beautifully lanky shoulders and reminded me of Ancient Greek apparel”. (pg. 360) |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | But now go and greet him (Naira Gelashvili, Works, Vol. 1, Tbilisi, 2010) | Prose | “The Latin alphabet comprising 26 letters does not reflect 33 Georgian letters”. (pg. 275) |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | But now go and greet him (Naira Gelashvili, Works, Vol. 1, Tbilisi, 2010) | Prose | “As we see, Bacchus or Dionysus, whom the poet also calls “the God of joy” […] of course you remember In vino veritas” […] The mission of Dionysus is waking up... |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | The garden lit by the Moon (Naira Gelashvili, Stories, Tbilisi, 1984) | Prose | “My colleagues would rise in turn and impersonate Oedipus or Creon, Othello or King Lear”. (pg. 12) |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | The garden lit by the Moon (Naira Gelashvili, Stories, Tbilisi, 1984) | Prose | “The sympathies of others were prone towards the Classical Rennaisance of Theaters”. (pg. 11) |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | The garden lit by the Moon (Naira Gelashvili, Stories, Tbilisi, 1984) | Prose | “She scarcely managed to lift her head from the book […] With tears in her eyes, she addressed the audience seriously: let us lament her together, she is already dead […] Then... |
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| Naira Gelashvili | 1947 | The garden lit by the Moon (Naira Gelashvili, Stories, Tbilisi, 1984) | Prose | “Once I witnessed in the state theater, that Medea, obviously out of her mind, jumped out of the carriage, caught her dress on something and landed on one of her children with all her weight... |
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| Grigol Robakidze | 1882-1962 | The hymn to (Grigol Robakidze, Works, Book 2, Tbilisi, 2012) | Poetry |
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