Book: Vladimir, or Interrupted flight

We never forget to look to the wolves, so miserable in cages, where they continuously go in a circle, - rather, in order to leave them a brotherly view, than to admire them.

How to make you understand the difference: a little drink for a nice dinner with friends, a small daily excesses of secular alcoholic - all of this is from the abyss into which you fall, from death, which you yourself are God, the little death, after which you are completely defeated and weak.

All your life you played some sort of quiet insanity to hide a deep inner disorder.

"Again nothing you can say - that everything is possible." It is necessary to have only boldness.

I have always been fascinated with the question: what happens in people's heads at the sight of an actor or actress that they admired in a movie?

He plays so that the rest of the characters gradually dissolve in the shadows. All who were in the hall applauded standing.

You generously squandered things, the strength and life, never lost and didn't ruin any pages of the manuscript.

When you listen to hundreds of you wrote ballads, marches, lyrical themes come in indignation at the thought that you never was recognized as a composer. Officials don't consider you one and that's it. And the same thing with poems. Not after graduating from the Conservatory, you can't be a composer. Not having graduated from the literary Institute, you can't be considered a poet. Without having publications, you can't join the writers ' Union. And so on.

In Moscow can not imagine a party without vodka is cold climate to it has it is a national tradition, and I am very happy to discover the warmth, isolation language, a sense of freedom, which gives the vodka. But I know that's the problem. You told me about it one evening when at dinner at the theater we met up with your ex-girlfriend and she tried to slowly pour you a glass of vodka. You are a very evil replied. I was surprised at such sharpness, you explained, "She knows I can't drink. These are the worst way to try to get back with me."

A life - love, sorrow, successes, challenges, creativity, search, and nothing remains but a few scattered parts of the whole that was this life...

I don't like easy songs. I don't like that at my concerts people rested. I want my audience worked with me so she's been doing. Probably, since established my way. My song is almost screaming.

I work with the word, I need my roots, I'm a poet. Without Russia, I am nothing. Without the people for whom I write, I'm not. Without an audience who adores me, I can't live. Without their love I'm suffocating. But without freedom, I die.

But a normal balanced person nothing prevents to stop. Very simply to choose life, not when attracts death. Very easy to behave according to the rules, if you're not disgraced poet without recognition.

The death of my mother's reflection in the mirror of my own death - is reduced to very little daily charade of our existence.