Author of quotes: Elena Voynarovska

I believe in a God who sends us both a flood and a boat to sail out. Everything else is our choice: either to get into this boat and row hard, or to wait for the waves of cruel "fate" to sweep our island going under water.

There is no such person who would not love the sea! So it seems to me. It doesn't matter where you live. For example, I see the sea from the window every day, but that does not prevent me from missing it.

- Laziness is when I swing for a long time and cannot start. I know what to do and how, but I find reasons and excuses for myself. However, when I do start, a meticulous, picky perfectionist immediately wakes up in me. I can redo the same thing for hours a hundred times, taking others out of patience, because everything is done at a snail's pace. And still - in the end - something will confuse me.

The classic once said that the whole world is a theater. But sometimes it seems to me that he has never been to the circus. But where else can you see so many interesting and fascinating, tragic and ironic at the same time. The whole world is a circus. And people alternately become acrobats, then jugglers, then trainers, then tigers in a cage, then sad clowns.

Your voice is from another world
A disembodied way, a scream and a whisper.
In it, the rustle of grasses, the breath of the wind,
Light as a feather, soft as silk,
It coats thin
An invisible aura of bliss,
It allows me to forget
About his own imperfection.
The night sleep;
I will drown in the gentle waves,
I turn into an empty vessel,
To the brim fill myself
His immense depth,
Its thrilling sound,
Its unknown spring,
His incomprehensible grief.

I would like to with you together to paint the sky
And collect the necklace of stars in a night blue.
And to quench your thirst, and share your troubles,
To give you new wings and together upstairs.
You sicken me - the mystery of my many faces,
Hundreds of my incarnations will do wonders.

Call me if you come mood
If you get a very cold winter,
If this is a naive poem
You will find a sudden in the table, among old papers.
Call me if there's anything to tell
Share with me the sadness and bright joy.
You may remember, you own me once said:
"I dare you to call me, please..."

Die only what was forgotten;
Just forget what was not important.

The ocean emerald, ears of barley,
Time shaky veil flowing in the wind.
Clouds over plain float so slowly
The many faces of the sun rises and sets.

And only music can breathe
And meaning, and feelings in this world is heartless;
She makes us understand
All things expressive and deeper.

It is a pity that I can not complete I
This study, though, was the idea wise:
I don't have enough droplets of LIFE
Not among the colors of my pearl.
Incomplete so palpable,
The idea is not embodied, and indeed,
I'll give you this picture
Maybe YOU will be able to finish.

It is a pity that I can not complete I
This study, though, was the idea wise:
I don't have enough droplets of LIFE
Not among the colors of my pearl.
Incomplete so palpable,
The idea is not embodied, and indeed,
I'll give you this picture
Maybe YOU will be able to finish.

Yellow drops - Sunny glare
Warm spots, happiness and summer.
Quiet tenderness will be spilled
In pink as clouds at dawn.
Drops green freshness combines -
The leaves and grass in wet ground.
Transparent drops - drops of sorrow,
Tears of rain on cold glass.
Droplets of scarlet beads of blood
I will heartbroken;
Drops of dairy - those that will cover
Warm lips suckling.
Blue droplet spray of the sea
In memory of seagulls, freedom, and wind.
Black droplets splash mountain:
Drops of fear, drops of death.

I have to draw you a picture
A fine brush on the canvas;
Maybe I'm bad at drawing, sorry
But I really want to draw me.
I do not own grace,
I don't mix paint to the right tone;
What if I draw a picture
Of small droplets of different colors?