Book: Collector. Page 3

It's me he wants, my look, my appearance, not my feelings, thoughts, soul and body. Nothing that is in me, animate, human.
He's a collector. Collecting a huge dead something that fills his whole being.

Critics love to talk about the highest achievements in the art of writing. Utter nonsense, empty talk. The art of brutally. Words can help you avoid penalties, even if you have committed murder.

I was one of the instances of the collection. When I flutter the wings to break out of the ordinary, he feels the deepest hatred. You have to be dead, impaled on a pin, always the same, always beautiful, pleasing to the eye. He understands that part of my beauty is the result of the fact that I am alive. But truly alive and I did not need. I must be alive, but dead.

If you grew up in a working environment, even if it's not pushing, not standing in your way. The same applies to any class, wherever you went, because to limit its consciousness of class - stupid and primitive.

You turned his brain into a warehouse, where everything you hear from me, carefully stored in Packed form. And forever disappears.

Can't concentrate. I've been thinking about a lot of things that now I can not stop on something one.

Smart... What good does it do? But can we call them people?

It's like in a football match. Both sides want to win, and both may even hate each other as enemy in the game, but if someone will come and convince them that football is a stupid game and play something not worth it, and the more we spend on her nerves, then you will understand everything that they are together, they feel the same way. It is important to sympathize, not to be indifferent.

Deep down you are harboring hatred. Due to the fact that the position below someone. I don't know how to clearly Express their thoughts. They are bullies and krushat all around, and you're sitting there mad at the world. Sit and repeat to myself: "do good to people? And not lift a finger! To help humanity to survive? Yes, let it rolls away, it's humanity. It is necessary to take care of yourself, and it'll be fine".

The perfect solution: I must not be weak.

I have the feeling that I do not have neither the will nor the energy that I was locked in every sense of the word.

He desperately tries to please me. But apparently, these are insane. They're not all crazy, like all normal people, must yourselves feel some shock if suddenly do something terrible.

Intimacy should be mutual. Both give themselves, and both accept that gift. You can't belong to me, because I can't take you. And can not do anything to give you in return.

You know, we can't have everything we want. To be a man of decent means to understand and accept, and not to achieve the impossible at any cost.