Book: Hello, sadness

I was vainly looking for some nice evasive phrase. I didn't want to marry him. I loved it, but didn't want to marry him. I never wanted to marry anyone else, I'm tired.

Know, 'I said,' I'm young, healthy and mindless creature, funny and stupid.

He held my hands, hugged her, my head lay on his shoulder. At that moment I loved him. He was a Golden, sweet and tender, like myself, and he I was protected. When his lips found mine, I as and he trembled from the pleasure the kiss was no remorse, no shame, was only greedy, broken whisper recognition. Then I escaped and swam to the boat, which was drifting with the current. I plunged my face into the water to recover, cool off... the Water was green. I was filled with a sense of carefree, cloudless happiness.

I willingly repeated the paradox, like the phrase of Oscar Wilde: "Sin is the only bright smear, preserved on the canvas of modern life". I believe in these words, I think, much more unreservedly than if they were applied in practice. I believed that my life should be based on this motto, be inspired by them, born from it like a stamped inside out. I didn't want to take into account the emptiness of existence, its impermanence, the everyday good sense. Ideally, I pictured life as a continuous chain of baseness and meanness.

Then I stretched on the shore, I scooped up a handful of sand and passing between the fingers of yellowish gentle trickle, we thought that was the same time that this simple idea and that simple thought of pleasing.

Probably, most of my pleasures then I owe money - pleasure quickly rush in the car to wear a new dress, buy records, books, flowers. I to this day not ashamed of these frivolous pleasures, and call them frivolous because they are so called upon me. If I would be something to regret, something to deny - so soon from his grief, from bouts of mysticism. The thirst for pleasures, happiness is the only permanent trait of my character.

Perhaps her kindness was a refined form of the mind, or simply indifference.

Self - confidence is an intoxicating feeling of partnership with myself.

This is a strange feeling, haunting me with its softly melancholy, I do not hesitate to call, give him a beautiful and solemn name - sadness. It is all-consuming, such egoistic feeling that I am almost ashamed of him, and the sadness always made me respect. And now it is irritating and soft as silk envelops me and alienates others.

Cyril stepped toward me, put his hand on my shoulder. I looked at him I never loved him. He seemed nice, attractive, I loved the pleasure that he gave me, but I don't need it.

I'm a bit angry with you and your father... "Never nothing to think... nothing can... know nothing." You like to be?
- I don't like myself. I myself do not love or seek to love.

- Anna, I love you, love you alone. Do you believe me?
- Do not repeat me this so often, I begin to fear.

Enough reasons to be happy and to be silent.

Both smiled a happy smile. It made an impression on me - happiness has always been in my eyes the key to righteousness and good luck.