Book: Body

At the table I asked you to pass me the butter, and the Pope, as if not hearing me, said, "are you sure, Danny, that the army is your calling?" "Yes tell me, for God's sake, the butter!" And my mother asked Danny whether to buy him a new shirt on sale... In the end, I had to drag myself over the butter across the table. One day (I was nine) I wonder do they hear me at all, and to find out, blurted out at the table, "Mom, please pass that zadryuchennogo salad". "Danny, - I heard in response, today called aunt grace. Was wondering how things are going with you and Gordon..."

Any person needs to be presumed innocent until, until proven otherwise.

I guess we all have something that for us is paramount, what you need to tell the world; that's just trying to do this, we are faced with an unexpected obstacle: what seems to us the most important thing in the world, immediately loses its higher meaning, clothed with the form of words, it becomes something small, everyday.

The worst thing is that we are surrounded by a blank wall of misunderstanding or unwillingness to understand. Opening the secret corners of his soul, we risk becoming the object of everyone's ridicule, and, as has happened many times, our revelation is the voice of one crying in the wilderness...

"Instant death isn't so bad," thought Chico. (...) What is death better? Is there in death something good?

... for love don't need words, and moreover, words can kill love.

Love has teeth and she bites, love inflicts wounds that do not heal ever, and no words can force these wounds to heal. This contradiction is the truth: when wounds heal from the love, the love itself is already dead. The kindest words can kill love.