Author of quotes: Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov

I know the way of separation and bad weather,
And drown the heavens in lilac blue,
And sinks the day in the rays, and sinking heart, in happiness...
I know I'm in love and happy to wander with you,
Yes, I will give myself to your loving power
And power blue stretched above me...
Join with eye gaze and looking into the eyes of passion,
We sit on the bench in acacia thick.
Yes, hold me a wonderful hands...
Tall grass everywhere around you
Shiny azure live moths...
Acacia, a little diamond shining
Tickling my face raw with petals...
A deep kiss... You are happiness... You are my...

Literature is a phenomenon of language, not ideas.

Crashed cloud. Diamonds rain,
flashing, drip the minor fall, the faster
with fragrant, agitated branches.
So God in the palm days roll human
so off the breath of life
and loudly falls within the unearthly
the song each of my...

What am I thinking? About shooting stars...
Look, there is one, silent spirit,
diamond path penetrates the air
and that's really the way it - is gone.
Don't ask me where the star had fallen.
Oh, I pray you, remain silent, don't breathe!
I feel radiant it broke
at the depth of my soul.

Night is given to think and smoke
and through the smoke to talk to.
Well... Pouncival mouse
many stars in the window and a lot of roofs.
The bone in my breast I finger:
native land, this bone is yours.
Your air, entered in my breast,
I give you verses.
Blue night rdana palm
palm guarding your fire.
Long trench foot
on the ground piercing your.
So the whole body - just your image,
and the soul, as the sky over the Neva.
Smoke and lay down and fall asleep
and your will feel the spring:
the corner of the house, a memorial oak,
rake combed the sand.

You light a resident of future centuries,
you, old lover, the day appointed
open an anthology of poems
undeservedly forgotten, but firmly.
And you, as a jester, dressed in taste
my era frachnyh and curtosey.
Leaning her elbows. Listen. As loud
the old time - sink muses.
Sixteen lines, crowned by an oval
with an unclear picture... a Little
to pobrezgovali their style shabby,
neatness and poverty my.
I'm here with you. Hide you are not free.
To your chest I prenol through the darkness.
That chill you feel a draft
from the past... goodbye. I'm happy with.

Under a thin moon, in a country far away,
ancient,
so said the poet, laughing Princess:
Through the melody of the cicadas will die in the foliage
olive,
goes out fireflies on the hyacinths
crumpled,
but the sweet slit of yours
oblong
satin-dark eyes, their affection, and
tide
a little PPE for the protein, and Shine to the lower
century
and gentle folds over the top, -
forever
will go on my shining poems
and people will be nice your big eyes
happy
while there are in the land of cicadas and olive trees
wet and hyacinth in diamond
Firefly.
So said the poet, laughing Princess
under a thin moon, in a country far away,
ancient...

Her soul, as the light is extraordinary,
as white glitter for a marvelous doors
I'm attracted. Come, secret artist,
and brush take.
Do a color string
magical birds, in fiery shafts prove
the whole white, silent Svetlitsa
of her soul.
Take the brush with dew tea roses
and the red juice is revealed dawn.
Come, love, come, secret artist,
dream, create.

In the foliage of birch, aspen,
at the end of the alley at the footbridge
suddenly fell the light from the blue dress,
from cornflower wreath.
Your light and shining
as the palm I hold
and butterfly puletua
reverently cherish.

And to the question: "What is your most memorable dream?" and Gurevich, and I accidentally wrote the same thing: "Russia".

... I myself hard, but waiting for heavenly grace.

I love you and your wonderful intelligence, as if your soul has in advance prepared a place for each of my thoughts.

You came into my life - not as come to visit (you know, "his hat"), and come to this Kingdom where all the rivers have waited for your reflection, all the roads - your steps...

- What is the situation, ' said Krug. And how are we going to choose between my physical and your spiritual ignorance?