Book: The Orb Of Fate

I am ready to give the floor to the barbarian king. It was not violated for fear of ruining their family and their home. Then they stopped giving it, but being silent does not mean forgetting.

Remember again. Forget ... Memory is dust ... Memory is the end ... Your old age grows from memory. Why do you need old age? Why remember, rejoice!

The waves remember and live with it, among the bitter and strange songs, among the collapsed old stairs, choking with new pain, carrying the tears of the heart into the sea, cooling like rocks at night, turning gray like the grass of the roadside, you go from autumn to summer, from sunset you go to dawn ... The rest, believe me, is not necessary, turn away from the past misfortune, look at the living flowers, your wounds are not knife wounds, your grief is not sea salt, your life is not an empty bowl ...

There is no way for fallen into depression and drinking his grief like a wine.

The shoulders you have a good, - was heard behind, and that lower is not worse, but the head is awkward.

... of meanness, not committed out of fear or inability, still hang on the neck. Just nobody sees, except left-handed, and he looks and laughs.

If a person does something from him, do not expect, we should not be surprised and do not be angry, but to look for the cause.

The half Ling of the soul is also the half Ling just did not notice.

Whence flowed a conscience, comes oblivion.

If the animal just like a horse, only with horns, off horn! This is the horse, which was a joke. The horse Lord...

Death, drowning in the death of plants.

This your Kink turns forty-eight years since I got married. You can send me on this occasion henbane.

Life is full of such opportunities, that die, fall ill and lose the war simply indecent.

Vozmezdie tolino to sledovat swelim at the gatherings!