Алвард Ахметова

"leap and the net will appear" "find shades in the blackness that feel like color." “In the depths of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer” "If you want your relationship to blossom, then stop looking for the right person and become the right person." "too weird to live, too rare to die." - hunter s thompson "We declared war on terror—it’s not even a noun, so, good luck." "To forget one's purpose is the commonest form of stupidity. " -Friedrich Nietzsche "the world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." -saint augustine "a heart in love with beauty never grows old." -turkish proverb "Love me on my bright days and on my dark ones, and in the dark nights that sometimes follow. My weight is gold, sometime shine sometime heavy." "I've attempted to scoop up a few diamonds of this magic that I see." -tom waits "The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. To them... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, their very breath is cut off... They must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency they are not really alive unless they are creating. " -Pearl Buck "dont get on the bus, the limo's coming..." "you know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams..." -dr. seuss "...but with the throttle screwed on, there is only the barest margin, and no room at all for mistakes. it has to be done right... and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. you can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. the only sounds are the wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. you watch the white line and try to lean with it... howling through a turn to the right, then to the left, and down the long hill to pacifica... letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge... the edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. the others- the living- are those who pushed their luck as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later. but the edge is still out there. or maybe it's In. the association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. they are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions." -hunter s. thompson