Book: The citadel. Page 13

... lost power irretrievably.

Grieve always about time; which left nothing in itself is leaving, about the gift of the days past. When you cry about a lost bracelet, cry about the time lost, God knows where; when mourning the dead brother, crying about the time more than anything will not serve. The girl, having matured, will mourn about the deceased beloved, not realizing that mourns a lost way of life, to the kettle, to the locked house, the child lying at the breast. Not realizing that crying about the time that will flow through it fruitlessly, as the sand in the hourglass.

You love her, and with your love everything makes sense what's happening to you. You don't hear her quiet breathing, but thanks to him the world became a miracle.
So what else is mysterious in a man: he is in despair, if it cease to love, but when ... will not love himself, does not notice that he had become poorer. He thinks: "it seemed to Me that it is much more beautiful... or sweeter..." and walks away, pleased with himself, trusting in the wind of chance. The world for him is not a miracle. Not happy with dawn, he does not return him to the arms of your beloved. The night is no longer the Holy of holies of love and not the cloak of a shepherd, which was once, thanks to a sweet sleepy breath. All dimmed. Derevenko. But man does not know about misery, mourns the lost fullness, he enjoys the freedom - the freedom of obscurity.

...none of us was afraid to die, but we all feared that he would be killed made things seemingly meaningless and insignificant. That's when we realized: the meaning of life is what it spent. The death of the gardener does not knock down the tree. But cut's a fruit tree, and the gardener is killed.

A great truth was revealed to me. I learned people live. And the meaning of their lives in their home. Road, barley field, the slope of a hill talking in different ways with the stranger and those who were born here.
The house is opposed to space, a tradition opposed to the run time.

Get them to build a tower, and they feel themselves brothers. But if you want them to hate each other, throw them a poppy seed.