Alex Feofilaktovich Pysemskyy. One Thousand Souls (№ 101294)

For us, the children of the current century, glory... love the world... ideas... immortality is nothing before comfort. All this in the hearts of our random: the only one he's standing in front of our path with its immeasurable power. It is to him that we direct all our efforts. He's our idol, and the sacrifice he brought all expensive, at least for this it was necessary to tear the closest part of our hearts, to sever his main artery and blood to come, but only blazenko, at the foot of our Golden calf! To comfort is to labor, to consumption, life!.. For the comfort of tens of years to bend, bow, curve conscience!.. For comfort throw family, home, riding a circle of light, drown, die of starvation in the steppes!.. For the comfort of clean and unclean by looking for the inheritance; for the comfort of taking bribes and committing, finally, crimes!..