Author of quotes: Boris Leonidovich Pasternak. Page 1

I could give you love?
And the sun falls upon happiness through my lashes,
And tenderness will collapse borders
On the palm - butterfly dreams...
And every day let lasts longer than a century!

We take obstacles not promised
We are going to die frankly.

Even lusher and recklessness
You usipetes, leaves,
The Cup of bitterness yesterday
Today's longing exceed.

You started as if from the outside,
Like a line from another cycle
Like not joking in the dream
Of my ribs appeared.

As I touched you! Even my lips copper
Touched as tragedy touched hall.
The kiss was like summer. He procrastinated and procrastinated,
Just then the storm burst.

But who are you? At what stage
Acquired it late in your experience?
Who leaked his struggles?
With yourself, with yourself.

You know, poets or dying in life or never die.

Trees, just for you
And your eye for beautiful,
I live in the world for the first time
You and your lovely looking.
I often think - God
His living, paint brush
My heart has learned
And put them on your sheets.
And if I was close to you,
Some light on the personality,
It is also easy grass,
Foliage and heights of the strangeness.

The story is conceived as a plan, and the theory of this plan is the gospel. And the most responsible, the most Christian part of that plan is socialism.

When the line dictates the feeling
It on stage sends a servant,
And do not drive,
And breathe soil and fate.

Immortality created by those who want it.

Image in art is not signs of actual individuals remaining in distant past, but jobs for those who want to fill this image.

Do not be offended and angry at my restraint. She is conscious. I not only stylistically, but also internally in many respects, we want more than anything else we have decided to choose. And, above all, a few more very simple, everyday and everyday freedom.

Everything in life can be interiano,
Acquainted with all the provisions
Traces of love is selfless
Not subject to destruction.