257 Quotes About Russian

Instead of wisdom -- experience, bare,That does not slake thirst, is not wet.Youth's gone -- like a Sunday prayer.Is it mine to forget?On how many desert roads have searched IWith him who wasn't dear for me,How many bows gave in church IFor him, who had well loved me.I've become more oblivious than inviting,Quietly years swim.Lips unkissed, eyes unsmiling --Nothing will give me back him.

I give pleasure to you. Do not interfere..." #MilanoVeneziani. #ItalianPassion

I want to forget myself in you..." #MilanoVeneziani. #ItalianPassion

You are like a narcotic plant..." #TimothySvetlov. #ItalianPassion

Literature, art, science, and religion degenerate when polemical struggle supplants the independent creation of ideas.

Oh my God, you're huge." She struggled to get her hands to the ends of the long sleeves. The garment hung to her knees. She glanced up to see his lips pressed together, like he was choking on a laugh. The corners of his eyes wee crinkled and amusement flickered in his heated gaze.

True love's memory, You are heavy!In your smoke I sing and burn,And the rest -- is only fireTo keep the chilled soul warm.To keep warm the sated body,They need my tears for thisDid I for this sing your song, God?Did I take part of love for this?Let me drink of such a poison,That I would be deaf and dumb,And my unglorious gloryWash away to the final crumb.

Like a white stone at the bottom of the well,One memory lies in me.I cannot and I do not want to struggle,It is both joy and suffering.I think that anyone who looks into myEyes will all at once see him.More sad and pensive he'll becomeThat heard the story of this suffering.I know that the gods had turnedPeople to objects, without killing mind,That divine sadness lived eternally.You're turned into my memory, I find.

All promised him to me:The heaven's edge, dark and kind,And lovely Christmas sleepAnd multi-ringing Easter wind,And the red branches of a twig,And waterfalls inside a park,And two dragonfliesOn rusty iron of a bulwark.And I could not disbelieve,That he'll befriend me all aloneWhen on the mountain slopes I wentAlong hot pathway made of stone.