Author of quotes: Alexander Semenovich Kushner

There was a branching road, but soon came together again
Both branches - one. What does it do, I don't know.
For eh, so we know who to wait
Could be: the chase? Slip - stay on the edge,
Not seen, deciduous, damp-dappled shade.
Or maybe, once invented sleeve, the branch
For those dreamers that want to be alone
And, the motor is drowning, to hear the Nightingale singing?

Don't ask with God: Its not in this world.
The celestial Kingdom of heaven. the mysterious light!
Just reflections of this light of this earth.
Therefore, the world and lies mostly in evil.

No one can go anywhere from blind fate.
Not given to shout from the earth to the stars of the night!

Night in the village is jealous the night in the city
Says: - Well, what are you night? You are the light,
You display, lamp, tram gold
And half the night not sleeping, and no rebound
Institutions night from a truly public,
And diverge after midnight of the guests
Musicians, actors, girls, rogues,
Entertaining you, you're full of passion.
The city darkens, does not agree,
Village says: You're so quiet,
Only the wind will sigh, only the dog will razdaetsya,
The bird would cry out, his face buried in your fur
And silk, but the car tint headlights
On the road with the river coming up steam.
Only someone to the window fits, nightmares
Sleep scared, and stars strahnet nightmare.

All else we do not know the reserves
What else will find, God knows
But we ask: - is it possible without nerves?
- Without the nerves if you have them!
- Our quarrel. Cursed rags.
How much money in June is gone!
- You would have remembered me more sneakers.
- Because only the ninth number,
Is life? Incidentally, and this is
Not the worst of it.
Is life, it is the heat of summer,
It is the rustle of thick poplar,
It's booming slamming doors,
Is happiness an untidy appearance
This, in addition to high matters,
That hurts everyone and makes.

No one to blame
What flies around the garden
That freeze slightly puddles,
That the city is gloomy,
And it will get worse.
No one to blame
In the Alps, rockfall,
In Japan - tsunami
That crying old and young,
And scary at times.
<...>
We were never happy
In the constellation of the Pleiades,
What if we found out
That someone is to blame,
Happier would not.

Aren't we the poems feel sometimes
As the smell of flowers don't feel?
<...>
Give us the prose: it's simple in it, clever,
Only shackled soul some regret.
But suddenly... as if in a garden the open window, -
And this God has come to us with a poem!

You're wrong - the worse for me.
The better a woman is, the quarrel with her huge.

The patient incurable
Jealous of the fact,
Someone wheeling past
In the district jail.
And he looks hospital.
He would be in the peace
Pills and syringe
And older sister.

Secrets in Ophelia there is no
And Desdemona, in my opinion, too.
Only the flowers that are always on hand
And needlework, and pearls, maybe.
<...>
Song - Yes! Understanding - Yes!
Or stubbornness and lack of understanding
Not only the mystery of male dream
The invention of the idle, love the justification.
So to the question: why love
This Ophelia, the Desdemona,
Need an answer from dreamer were
Dark in meaning high tone.

England sorry! Half of its population
Cut off the detectives. Pleasant reading!
Whatever the affair, the murder, one or two.
In London is terrible. The province is also salvation
No: the bloody flowers and grass.
Coffee drink: it is a stomach poison stirred.
Tea? Give up tea or out the window
Release, the only way to saw.
And, of course, very dangerous wine.
It is best to change imperceptibly glasses,
Drink from a stranger, given a host with his.
<...>
Maybe all this is connected somehow with Shakespeare:
In "hamlet," all killed, poisoned all.

To be classic means to stand on the Cabinet
Senseless bust, bristling of the clavicle.
About Gogol, in my dreams eh it's all real?
So the Scarecrow put: snipe, owl.
Stand instead of a bird.
He was wrapped in a scarf, he loved tinkering
Vests, jackets.
Not that undressing - piece to swallow
Could not the witnesses, sculptor naked
Delivered. Nice is a classic to be?

What a miracle, if there is
The one who satall in our honor
Night many of the constellations!
But if all by itself
Settled, then, my friend,
Even more wonderful!
We did lose? No.
Then, all mystery, all secret.
But life is quite incredible!
Fire, rushing into the darkness!
Even more beautiful because
What is non-refundable.

Here's a woman: the parting and the dress cut is cute.
It seems to us that if we life in Paradise.
But using her invisible force
Zamyslivaet pain, cherishing your death.
Otherwise was it to you not to approach,
You to live life in the dark could.
And so any thing: a pin, a glove -
Poured into the heart of poison and pain, like a burn.
<...>
Don't ask her: she was not guilty,
Its not hears the words, knows what he's doing
It is clever, good and evil, and stupid
And like myself and looking in the mirror.