Book: Quay incurable

Because beauty is the place where the eye rests.

The night in unfamiliar lands infinity starts with the last lantern.

It seems that happiness is the moment when faced with the elements of your own composition in a free state.

Tear is a movement backwards, a tribute to the future of the past. Or it is the result of subtracting the greater from the lesser: beauty from man. The same is true for love, for love more the one who loves.

Love is unconditional, the one-way street. That's why you can love the city's architecture itself, the music, dead poets, or in the case of a particular temperament, the deity. Because love is an affair between a reflection and its object.

The main instrument of aesthetics, the eye, completely independent. In autonomy, he is second only to the tear.

I long ago came to the conclusion that it is not to turn your emotional life in food is a virtue. Work is always in abundance, not to mention the fact that plenty of the outside world.