think [Theme] Page 1

Except for my heart.

You are what you love.

And now dawn has dawned, I see only the light of day.

You gave me all your love, and I gave you just one word: Goodbye!

I thought you'd be out of my mind
And I'd finally found a way to
Learn to live without you
I thought it was just a matter of time
Till I had a hundred reasons
Not to think about you
But it's just not so
And after all this time
I still can't let go

Я думал, что ты уйдешь из моих мыслей,
И что, наконец я нашел путь,
И научился жить без тебя!
Я думал, что это только вопрос времени,
До тех пор, пока у меня было сто причин
Не думать о тебе!
Но это оказалось совсем не так,
И после всего прошедшего времени
Я всё ещё не могу отпустить тебя!

Well, I have a heart of gold and cold hands.

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Одни говорят: мир умрёт в огне,
Другие твердят про лед
Я долго жил, и кажется мне,
Огонь скорей подойдет.
Но если бы кто-нибудь мне сказал,
что дважды нас гибель ждет,
я не удивился бы. Я узнал,
что ненависть - толще, чем лёд.
И равнодушие холодней
вечных покровов льда.
И если для смерти не хватит огней
Лед сгодится тогда…

Diana RossUpside DownInspirational QuotesLoveMadnessMadnessFeelings

Don't let her die, think what you're doing.

And I think, therefore I am.

Or I will be silent, covering my mouth with my hands, as if I were crying.

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye (unused to flow)
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
Th'And moan the expense of many a vanished sight;
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoand moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before:
But if the while I think on thee (dear friend)
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.




When in the silence, in the silent Duma,
I trigger a memory of days gone
Mourn the passing of the pores happy
Still grieving over the shadows dear, -
When vlazhneyut withered eyes,
And, sadly yearning for friends
Hidden death in the gloomy night,
I raise the appearance of them in tears;
Then, the sadness of past sorrow,
I return them my love
As if my tears are they did not know
And waited to be mourned again...
But just remember the you, my dear,
All the past re-covered grave.

When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.




When, persecuted and people, and rock,
One with the other, in desperation wild,
I the wilderness of heaven, disturb vain cry,
Look at the world with fierce eye,
Wanting to be richer in hope,
Beautiful, always among friends
Skillful, not knowing failure,
And I hate everything in my fate, -
I, myself despising myself for it,
Suddenly thought of you in heaven
(Like a lark at dawn from the face
Of the earth) are my national anthem on the eve of Raya...
So, just remembering your love,
I despise the lot of kings.

Forests and deserts
Rivers, blue seas
Mountains and valleys
Nothing here stays
While we think we witness
We are part of the scene
This never ending story
Where will it lead to?
The earth is our mother
She gives and she takes
But she is also a part
A part of the tale.
We're part of a story, part of a tale
Sometimes beautiful
And sometimes insane
No one remembers
How it began.




Forests and deserts,
River and blue sea,
Mountains and valleys -
There is nothing left.
We consider ourselves to be spectators,
Being only a part of the scene.
Will
This endless story?
The earth is our mother
She gives and takes away,
But it is also part of the narrative.
We are part of history, part of a story,
Sometimes beautiful,
And sometimes the mad.
And no-one remembers
How it all began.