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I don't want to say that the theatrical environment, especially Dika, the bloodthirsty and aggressive. It is only, how shall I say, a little crazy. The fact that the orchestra of the Bolshoi theatre consists of a wide variety of people of different professions.

- Is there a God?
I do not know.
- Well, tell me!
Said would if I could... But I don't know and nobody knows.
Robert knows.
- No. She has the faith. And it's great. But Faith is only a feeling, not knowledge.
- What about Jesus?
Love it and do well.
- Uh... But he's a God?
- I don't know... I Have an opinion... Just an opinion, I could be wrong. Don't want to impose... the decision is yours, but don't be afraid to believe in God.
- Hmm... one person on TV said that there is no God.
The difference between an atheist and Roberta is... she loves you and wants to help... and more Important... In the end we'll all be together. You do about it?
- Well, Yes.
Okay. This is not a reason for concern.
- Okay.

Stomach tied a knot, and I'm a fucking child - try not to look at the beautiful girl who long ago stole my heart. She was not just kidnapped him. At first she found it. It was she who discovered that I even have a heart, and pulled it into the light. The battle for the battle - she never gave up. She found my heart and saved him. Hid from this crazy world. Moreover, she hid it from me until I was able to take care of it yourself. She tried to return it two years ago, but my heart refused to leave her. It ever and would not leave.

She's half dressed or half naked?

She is one of those whom women love to hate.

He cursed her not because she was indifferent to him, but for the fact that she had forgotten to tell him.

It's like you are not alone.
My mind says, where were you up to, crazy.
And I, as before, at night dedicate poems.
She is my sins.
It's like you are not forever.
I'm so drawn to her, she's the best.
Someone I knew once used to have or know.
Me to fall asleep.

But she whispers, "You love frowning, rude, occasionally. Somehow..."

She's not like all
A moth flies to the moon in the spring,
Drinking sweet as a dream, tea on the balcony
And it is a pity that the world does not understand...
She dreams of the son on a sapphire throne.

She was, as everyone is unique.

In her eyes - sadness and besplatnosti, in her eyes - throwing and stinging, her eyes sky-high and dull, she's not here, she's not here...

She doesn't know how this freedom is monstrous, she will sing about you.

She loves me as a graphic artist, by date, by number of seas and deserts. It creeps my soul to the depths and lip curls in disgust. She loves me, of course, loves. But it is terrible from that love.

What she wants to be my true friend and sleep.
My invisible house, it will replace it all.
Stars fall from heaven, I will raise them up.