Book: Steppenwolf. Page 1

It was amazing that somewhere in the green valleys healthy, nice people cultivated grapes and squeezed the juice out of it, in different places of the earth, far far away from them, some frustrated, quietly drink too much and confused the inhabitants of the steppe wolves was cheered up and enlivened, draining his glass.

Steppenwolf, opasno wandered to us in the city, in a gregarious life, no other way or rather not draw this man, his shy loneliness, his savagery, his anxiety, his longing for the homeland and its bezrodnoy.

Many loved him as a refined and clever and interesting man, and then, when they had come upon the wolf in him was horrified and disappointed. And not discover they could not, for he, like everyone, wanted to be loved as a whole, and therefore could not conceal the wolf from those whose love he cherished. But there were those who loved it was the wolf, the freedom, the wildness, the indomitable threat, and he again was terribly disappointed and upset when suddenly it turned out that wild, wicked wolf is also a man who yearns for kindness and affection, and wants to hear Mozart, to read poetry and to have human ideals.

People like you are not entitled to criticise radio. Better learn to listen first! Learn how seriously to treat that deserves to be taken seriously and laugh at the rest. You made my life a frightful history of disease out of his talent, and a misfortune.

You love me today like it usually happens in a loving good-bye, finally.

Always has been and always will be, what time and world, money and power belongs to small and flat, and others, do people who do not belong. Nothing but death.

- What do you want?
- I want more. I'm unhappy that I'm happy, I'm not built for it, it's not my calling. My destiny is the opposite.

From the women I loved before, I've always demanded of intelligence and education, not quite aware of the fact that even very intelligent and relatively educated woman never answered the queries of my mind, and always resisted them; I came to the women with their problems and thoughts, and it seemed to me utterly impossible to love longer than some hours the girl who doesn't read almost any book, almost do not know what read, and would be unable to distinguish Tchaikovsky from Beethoven.

Only just tonight I am very sad, today I will not be able to be fun, but maybe I can tomorrow.

We, intelligent people, all entirely dream of a language without words to Express the inexpressible, to Express what they cannot Express.

I'll show you my little theater, teach dance and be a little more fun and silly, you show me your thoughts and some of their knowledge.

- Don't laugh, Mr. Haller.
Oh, I mock myself.

The struggle against death, the unconditional and stubborn will to live, is the root cause, which is encouraged to act and live all outstanding people.

I was short of breath. Thousands of things had now to say ten words.