Category: beautiful quotes. Page 862

The most beautiful woman in the spine when it is bent, as bending Indian bow when its vertebrae so gently, so delicately show through under the tight skin... when he abruptly naprinimali from slender neck and down along it occur and deepen narrow dimples, and they play light shadows, and the light bathes the back of...

I never forget that face, never forget how it fell to me, beautiful and expressive as it beamed with affection and tenderness, as it bloomed in that glowing silence, I will never forget, as her lips reached for me, eyes close to mine, how close they looked at me questioningly and seriously, and then those large shimmering eyes slowly closed, as if surrendering...
And the fog swirled around. From his ragged shreds sticking out pale and grave crosses. I took off his coat, and we hid them. The city sank. Time died...

And her smile can bring the ships to the shore, even in the most impenetrable darkness...

How happy is the blameless vestal''s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd...
How happy the bride of Christ entourage! -
Forgetting about the world, the world is forgotten
Strait their mind purity radiance.
Prayers have been taken and each wish resigned...

There is music that needs air. Roll down the window...

- You want to die?
- If without you, then Yes!

I don't know who that is, but I know he can't treat you like I do.

Wake up in the morning and think of her, remember her face - a second sun...

People love each other, and that was it! This is the most incredible and the most simple in the world.

Should be, we are the first generation of lovers separated by time and space...

... in her life was always plenty of love, participation, but in order to make it all the happiness she lacked only one thing: a little bit of craziness.

In an untrustworthy vessel, such as a piece of paper, you can attach only unreliable unreliable memories or thoughts.

And she thinks about the time when I lived Johann Sebastian Bach and when the music was like a rose blooming on a vast snowy wilderness of silence.

No. We don't die. Die time. About damn time. It dies continuously. And we live. We continue to live. When you Wake up in the spring when you fall asleep - fall, and between them a thousand times flashed winter and summer, and if we love each other, we are eternal and immortal, like the beating of the heart, or rain, or wind, and is a lot. We vegative days, my beloved, and lose years! But who cares who it bothers? A moment of joy - that's life! Only it is closest to eternity. Your eyes twinkle, Stardust streams through infinity, gods decrepit, but your mouth is young. Between us trembles riddle - You and I, Call and Response, born the evening dusk, the enthusiasm of all who loved... It's like a dream vines, fermented in a storm of Golden hops... the Screams of frenzied passion... They come from the most ancient times...