Book: The Face Of Victory

So happened with the creation of: some of the wood runs out, the other flying into the mouth of the fireplace, others are waiting in the shed or pull the branches to the sky, waiting for the lumberjacks. The fire is out, only deprived of food, but it will not be victory, but of death.

The death of the same woman, she is not to be afraid, but you do not want...

Not the province of women, their feelings should be considered.

Without pretense only hedgehog lives, because with needles.

To beat enemies more comfortable in a strange house, and not in their own. So you do not insert the window and not change the carpets.

This bitch always says, like a funeral, or not? Only at the funeral and even cry, but to cry, we will not, from crying red eyes and swollen nose. We will suffer in silence.

Before engaging enemies, and really have to put in order the allies. In current form they do not suit me.

Sorry, not come up with a means of conscience, some too much, and it is harmful.

If horses see a monster, she is a monster, if the monster to see the horse, it will become a horse.

Nothing never prove it.

The guitar is not a woman, for her silence is not gold, but looks aren't everything.

Fate makes us dead, but we become bastards by choice.

Traitors will not protect any walls.

More stupidity costs only kindness.