Author of quotes: Eduard Arkadyevich Asadov

A real hand with his hand forever not be forgiven.

When trouble comes and destroys the house, what happens in the ruins? First... it seems like no life here won't be able to be born. And yet life is always stronger than the troubles! I am convinced of it firmly. After the personal drama I was lonely, very lonely. My friends were friends too, the girls that I was nice, and also met time and time again. But that's only good hands, honest heart and shoulder to lean on in difficult times and know that will not betray and will not fail, never - such a shoulder was not for long.

...What happened then? And then there was the hospital and twenty-six days of struggle between life and death. "To be or not to be?" - in the most literal sense of the word. When consciousness came, dictated two or three words a postcard to mum, trying to avoid disturbing words. When I left consciousness, was delirious.
It was bad, but youth and life still won. However, the hospital I had not one, but a whole lot. From Mamashev I was moved to Saki, then Simferopol, then Kislovodsk hospital named Decade of October (now a sanatorium), well and then - in Moscow. Moving, scalpels surgeons, bandaging. And that's the hard part - the verdict of doctors: "be Ahead of everything. Everything except the world". This is something I had to accept, to endure and comprehend, has to solve the question: "to Be or not to be?" And after many sleepless nights, all things considered and answered, "Yes!" - to bring the largest and most important goal and go to it, not giving up. I again began to write poetry. Wrote by night and by day, and before and after surgery, wrote consistently and persistently. Understand what not so, but again was looking for and worked again. However, a strong will man, with whatever tenacity he went to the goal and no matter how much labor or invested in the business, true success is still not guaranteed. In poetry as in any art, needed ability, a talent, a calling. To assess the dignity of his poems difficult, because pristrastie just belong to yourself. ... Will never forget that 1 may 1948. And how happy I was when I was holding purchased near the House of scientists, room cold feet, in which was printed my poems. That's it, my poetry, and not someone else! By me with the songs were festive demonstrators, and I was probably more festive, all in Moscow!

It happens: incredibly tired
And hide from all sorts of passions.
But how to keep silent when someone bad
Il pain is at someone's house?!
And if someone - the love of power,
But to not say anything,
Well, how to pass spiritual passions
And not to give the unfortunate in nenastie
Even used a particle of his heart?!

That happiness is given to you not for ever,
No need to complain, people.
When would us happiness forever were given
It would be routine was called.

You don't love me! - said the wife.
The husband responded by whistle - That's you!
If your character suffer for so many years,
You can be calm, devilish love.

What is the exam? Who can tell?
- Test - is - wisdom answers, -
When one knows everything, but silent,
The other continually says
Though knows absolutely nothing.

"Visiting us, home is best!" -
So the saying goes one.
All right. But just in case
Add: if we are not tortured,
Mother-in-law does not go angrier clouds
Not noisy and scandalous wife.

If the money lost - do not kill.
Finances - a matter of time, friend.
But if the conscience will lose suddenly
Then weep for the heart and grab hold.

He teeth customers readily inserted,
However, they are so "exposed",
Toshav bellies,
Six months teeth chattering.

Striving for love, you are the beauty you seek.
See well make no mistake. After all, that's what happens
That the most beautiful features
Not look, and only the heart open.

"Do not have hundred rubles, rather have hundred friends!" -
The idea, of course, wise and simple, I must admit.
Why sometimes without solid posts
Without money not to a hundred friends,
And a dozen and you will find sometimes?!

You go a hundred times yourself cursing
That on a date not admitted
And burning like fire,
Remembering how moaned and stuttered.
Come on, man, the self-torment
Years pass by, and maybe
You for it "the rejection"
Be two hundred times thank.

Youth is vain: the pupils openly
Read the desire "to Be famous!"
Maturity been more skeptical: "Glory cruise.
Verneuil and safer to live richly".
And only knows the wisdom of sometimes one,
What all these dreams price:
It's all in the health. His friends,
Neither fame, nor gold can not buy!