delight [Theme] Page 4

It's always the same. This enthusiasm and thirst for war. Over the years I have seen the darkness of young people who were running towards the enemy. But in fact, they ran towards me.

They come, a voice heard only...
Follow the sound zapisa suddenly the strings...
Whatever please be a bit quieter,
They are always ruthlessly honest.
Sneaking in the heart of quiet gentle whisper
The soul touch and say something...
Swarm of butterflies Wake accidentally
Every nerve as if teasing.
And there is no rescue, no protection.
Your world will quickly put upside down
And pull all the hidden threads...
Oh, the ubiquitous and fair Goosebumps...

Just understand that the feelings will hide in mind.
Give him the right to fill you up, warming.
Tenderness tremendous courage of this family.
It's not a shame to friends, with delight beaming.

When I first started in television I writer <...> said that I should, after his song down, to stay and rehearse with all the "Delight" and I said "What what?". He says, "Delight" is the final song in the "Song of the year"". Arkady Ostrovsky, the song "Remains with you". And I said that I with this song don't stay, because I don't sing. I wanted to go home. And he approached me close, those eyes are like two globes languishing, and said, "Young man, I'm 82 years old, I do like this song, then another, then you come and you do what you want, but I want you to remember for a lifetime - your songs only want you, and people need a delight." I believed him and work to was a delight.

The audience was excited, despite the fact that the moon smashed the place up. On the other hand, who of us, the theater didn't fall?

Why chest
Lies within the boundaries?
In a space of happiness
Can not fit.
That joy is not pressed,
I'm part of it spend:
From the fullness of delight
I seem to pay.

To attribute to the author a weak level of susceptibility was only because experience does not cause him lyrical enthusiasm, and silently lie in its emotional depth, is unfair. On the contrary, the sooner and more rapidly expresses an impression, the more often it is superficial and fleeting.

Trash cans, empty plastic bottles, scraps of paper, even tattered and thin cat, melancholic gryzshaya fish skeleton, all so touched by Vincent, that he almost burst into tears. "Still not a perfect planet!" - with a kind of childlike enthusiasm he thought.

Past - no one can be weirder.
I will look in the end
You will be amazed
Or the shame.

Simple things that most of us consider something for granted, was new to him, became a source of admiration and delight. And then I they started to seem amazing.

... Man is sometimes quite small enough to literally get excited.

It seemed some unearthly force, some inspired enthusiasm drew him up, wrote about those days of Zelda. - It's like he had a secret ability to float in the air, but after the conventions, agreed to walk the earth.

When I mistake a dip pen,
Bypassing the inkwell, next to the moon
In the creeping lake of black nights,
In every dream the Nightingale's stream,-
Other harmonies are committed with pen
They amazed plaque silver
They like birds, I'm scared to take them
But the line closely, fill with the notebook.
Meet you, wild night
And the fate of us and start just just
We both unbelievers for dark eyes,
One and immortal Fatherland from us.
I remember the day you have lived,
Do you remember how I broke away from the cliffs,
You always lose the milky road,
You like to hide in the clefts of the lines.
The devil of dreams, the draft of the Nightingale,
Reader only, my Muse,
You spend, without thanking,
But with the foam of delight, running from rhymes.

The feelings all come and dwell within him, like water covered with ripples in the pool, which on all sides run streams. The singing of the birds caused him to freeze and apply to the hearing; the emergence of proteins caused dizziness of delight; soaring trunks drew him away; he raised his hands.