Book: The citadel. Page 4

I want to be filled with my soldiers, nobility, and the Church, in which people spend itself, and that for them the meaning of their life, overflowing with beauty. But tonight when I walked the desert of my love, I saw a little girl. She had been crying. I turned her toward me and looked into my eyes. Her grief blinded me. If, Lord, I neglect it, I neglect one of the particles of the world, and my creation is complete. I can not look away from the great goals, but don't want to cry and the baby. Only then the world will be fine. Little girl - also the grain of the Universe.

Dominated not by the severity of the accessibility of the language. The severity helps to teach the language that are not determined from the outside, which is not true and not lying to others, but simply says otherwise. But what the severity will help to teach the language that divides people and allows them to contradict each other? Language controversies encourages dissent, and dissent destroys any severity.

The crowd, - told the father hates the man, because it's always stupid and spreading in all directions at once, destroying any creative effort. Bad if the man put down the crowd. But this is not the hopelessness of slavery. Hopeless slavery there, where the crowd has the right to destroy a man.

Why choose when lying in the trough? For what to try? For the sake of bread? Them fed. For the sake of freedom? But within her tiny universe they are free to infinity. They choked on their unlimited freedom, and the rich from her swelled out bellies.

You can not even imagine what the tree, he said. Once at the whim of the scenario, the tree grew in an abandoned shack with no Windows and went in search of the light. Man needs air, fish - water, wood, light. Rooted in the earth and branches to the stars, it is the path that connects us with heaven. The tree I'm talking about now, was born blind, but in the dark it managed to gain strength and crawled to touch from wall to wall. Capturing his pain with curvature of the trunk. It finally got to the window in the ceiling, smashed it and reached for the sun, straight as a column. I saw him win from the outside and could only witness her with the dispassion of the historian.

Do not desire the state where it prevailed to perfection. Impeccable taste - the virtue of the custodian. Nowhere to wait for paintings, gardens, castles and dances, if you despise bad taste. Fear of dirty work and dirty the earth creates snobs. Idle perfection will leave you with nothing. Take care of the state, where everything would be imbued with zeal.

I refuse sympathy with the wounds exposed.

If the envy will be equal with us, we with pleasure will break.

And the rabble yelled, defending their right to rot. Created by the rot, he fought for it.

They rot illusive happiness to consume ready. There is no happy without the work and sweat of creative suffering. Refusing to waste themselves and receiving food from other people's hands, fine foods and exquisite reading other people's poems and not wanting to write their own, they wear out the oasis, not prolonging his life, wear out the chants they got. They tied themselves to the trough in the barn and became domestic animals. They prepared themselves to slavery.

I don't like people with dead hearts. One who does not spend itself, becomes an empty place. Life will not bring him maturity. Time for him - a trickle of sand and wear his flesh to dust.

"Necessity," they say about the house and are not concerned about the house and its convenience. In the house they are enriched. And die poor, leaving behind no embroidered cloth, nor gilt utensils, folded in the hold of the stone ship. They were urgent to spending, and they want to be served. They left and left a void.

People will gladly spend something more precious than themselves. Only then will it be painters, sculptors, engravers, chasers. But what can you expect from a man, if he toils for daily bread, not for eternity?

I honor the fact that dolgovremennoi person. I want to preserve the sense of wasted life.