This photos...this news on my TV, on radio...Just...I pray for Japan! I believe that Japan will be winner! I trust that the all this will go to the finish soon. .
Have a nice and happy days!
понедельник, 28 марта 2011 г.
I pray for JAPAN!
The Japanese days...it's a horror! Big horror! I don't know what we all can say to help for Japan. No more words... There are not 11 thousands people... It's terrible! I so sorry for our people, which don't understand...never understand what we all do.
This photos...this news on my TV, on radio...Just...I pray for Japan! I believe that Japan will be winner! I trust that the all this will go to the finish soon. .
Have a nice and happy days!
This photos...this news on my TV, on radio...Just...I pray for Japan! I believe that Japan will be winner! I trust that the all this will go to the finish soon. .
Have a nice and happy days!
среда, 23 марта 2011 г.
undefinite...
Undefinite things is, perhaps, the most unpleasant. It compels to climb on walls, it puzzles. It looses your time, confuses thoughts, but cannot expiate all it in any
way.
way.
понедельник, 21 марта 2011 г.
It's so simply!
A person can cry or laugh. Always when you're crying you could be laughing, you have the choice. (c. by Andy Warhol)
воскресенье, 20 марта 2011 г.
Soliloquy from 'Hamlet'. W.Shakespeare
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
(Продолжить)
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
P.S. Shakespeare is a genius! I love his works.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
(Продолжить)
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
P.S. Shakespeare is a genius! I love his works.
вторник, 15 марта 2011 г.
вторник, 8 марта 2011 г.
strange....so strange...there is a advertising in minsk street...
Now I began to put things in order in photos on my computer. Has again seen advertising which last year I photographed in one Minsk street. This advertising has again caused in me bewilderment. All the same, my brain refuses to understand this creative.
Text: Yoghurt more live, than Buratino.
Text: Cottage cheese more ancient, than pyramids.
Text: Milk is more useful, than a brick.
Text: Cheese more tasty, than the moon.
The End.
Text: Yoghurt more live, than Buratino.
Text: Cottage cheese more ancient, than pyramids.
Text: Milk is more useful, than a brick.
Text: Cheese more tasty, than the moon.
The End.
какую последнюю книгу прочитала?
перечитала Ницше "Так говорил Заратустра" для философии)) а для души - "Киномания" Теодора Рошака :) собираюсь осилить "Мифы Древней Греции" )
воскресенье, 6 марта 2011 г.
Подписаться на:
Сообщения (Atom)
I am.
- ZheniaSavina
- Minsk-Vilnius, Belarus
- The terrorist cult of the new helps me to sell empty space. (F.B.)