Book: The Space Of Euclid

Game to good arguments. It is impossible to play some games with people who are too near and dear. In the game you must follow the beat of the tomfoolery and jokes that it is not always possible with loved ones.

It's time to stop speculating on the past and create the present.

In the process of fracture everything becomes confusing and unclear. People become strangers, klopotoski about nothing, and boredom noose squeezes desires. Never hooked off the romance of the landscape, and man becomes cloudy even in its best sense and sincerity conditions. It seems that all this complicated, busy life, with the culture of the cities, with cages of relationships, is people nothing to do, the game of "if", but devoid of the true game value: the lightness, of fantasy, and most importantly, everlasting, as in children, the knowledge that this is the game that the misery and suffering it will cause, but if her system is screwed tight, the game are changing... Dirty games are played in adults - they are built on the subordination of the lusts of the lusts of others, and it seriously and forever; moreover, at stake is life itself, of course, the other right at her.

The dangers are different: from people and from attacking human forces of nature. There are risk covering people EN masse, and personal danger. Experienced the danger invigorates and tempers of man and teaches courage, one to caution the other. There is a danger that we are asking, they have people gamble are a kind of excitatory romance, raising their life-impulses. There is a danger of unexpected, found the man by surprise. Any risk is the eve of our death, and she gives the exam to all of our organic experience.

In moments of udruzenja everything becomes depressing. Roman Campagna did not please me at that moment her fall on twilight. As the bones dug graves, were white and grizzled ruins of monuments. Too much seemed to babble nonsense people in its history, by the way, and inappropriately bringing in all the heated fervor. And when navatanee was beautiful and as we walked by, leaving a tiny aesthetic pleasantness. Boring, crappy niece of despair crushed my soul...

I thought that maybe every school, whatever it was, is my furnace for smelting, and it is fueled by my own fire: leaders only fanned the fire or extinguish it.

Pity is generally not active. There is something else that moves in such cases, maybe it's emotion...