Author of quotes: Safi Bays

You can look in the mirror and think, "Oh, I'm so... ordinary. Hardly I face too much of a romantic guy. Most likely, I have no guy coming. Never." Think of yourself as anything good or bad to depression - neither one nor the other will not save, if his choice fell on you.

For girls there's nothing more dangerous than a too romantic guy.

... the clouds beneath them began to melt and all three collapsed on the hard, cold ground, devoid of sympathy for their reckless children that decided to cheat on her with the heavens.

When the dress turns you into a masterpiece - in a sense force, comparable to magic. And do not just believe, but know - everything is possible.

If you pry you from my life,
the only nerve cells,
to drown out all the pills
mint and coffee and, Yes, chocolates,
to occupy the mind with work, puzzles,
and your profile remove bookmark
To forget.
It hurts damn! Tell me
how I learned to shoot so accurately,
on the hearts leaving a mark?
That is, holes. Traps and cages
under the snow are arranged clearly.
Yes, and fools, because they are not uncommon.
Alas.

You can't change, I can change that. So why permanently mark on the parched field? You just need to sow new seeds.

Man likes to be proud of the fact that he has a personal opinion. It makes him feel special, makes you think that it stands out from the endless herds of their own kind. And even if it is not, even if it was imposed by society or formed under the influence of an authoritative person, still the right of ownership you retain. And with it the right to be proud of this property.

You're a night bird, he said. And I too prefer the night. At night, the world quiet and the sky closer, blinding Sun and not burn, the air is cleaner and cooler. From that, perhaps, and I think better at night, and thoughts from that clearer.

Andrew hugged her and kissed the top of her head. So did his mother when quite small he fell and broke his knees or wiped off by the skin on the palms. In his hands was also a child after the drop, the child who grew up, but the wounds on his knees have not healed. And not to think about them, he began to inflict a new wound. Stupid, stupid child.

It was her idea - every morning one of them voiced a desire, and before midnight it had become executed.

How many in the world there are people who don't like red roses? Lalen they hate. She almost hated. These flowers were for her not a symbol of love, no, they associated it only with treachery and deceit.

But the world remained unshaken calm small waves rhythmically rolled against the shore and retreated behind rustled the huge feathery leaves palm trees, seagulls were added to the melody, their higher notes, and from somewhere in the forest was the muffled sound of urgency "wgyc ugyk" still unknown to her birds.

He was talking, no, shouting about his love these flowers silent, though no love all these romantic gestures even smelled.

I dreamed, and still dream about the simple things: a big beautiful house, garden, flower beds and lots of flowers in containers and pots. They are placed everywhere along the track leading to the house, on the porch (the house must be with open veranda), on the window sills.