Book: The sorcerer. Page 3

- Nothing in life more beautiful than you've never seen.
- You're not seeing.
- Feel.

Men like to fight because this activity gives them importance. Because otherwise women how men think, always will laugh at them.

... in any mystery is concealed energy. And he who is looking for the answer, this energy feeds.

Nineteen people disagree just to do things. It is important all the time to justify.

In moments of despair poems, for me, was the emergency exit, a life raft, the meaning of life.

To be a poet - all, sickness - nothing.

Fully trained to failure, I entered into a great life.

God and freedom - the notion of a polar opposite; people believe in imaginary gods, usually because of fear to trust the devil.

Grain of hope, a right to exist - what is necessary for the anti-hero? Leave him alone, says the age, leave it at a crossroads, faced with a choice: is not in the same position and humanity - it can lose everything and win only what he had; have mercy on him, but don't piss on blagodenstviya; for we are all waiting, locked in rooms where never rings the phone alone waiting for that girl, this truth, the crystal of compassion, the reality of ruined illusions; and that it will return false.

I prayed for peace, for prayer is vain; I didn't mourn her or himself, for twice mourn the same only xtravirt; but, shrouded in the night's silence, an incredibly hostile and person, and his loyalty, and love, just remembered her, remembered, remembered about her.

Looking out to sea, I was in a skill to perceive her as a girl, still living (even in the mere memory of man), still shimmering in the "now," breathing the air "now," a moving and energetic, - and learned the ability to think of her like a handful of scattered to the winds the ashes; how about the broken link, the broken branch of evolution, the eternal void of existence, about the structure, once difficult, but melting, passing without a trace, only a dash of soot on a blank sheet of paper.

Unripe month hovered over the planet Earth, dead - on dying.

He just longed to remake the world; and could not; and suffered his own impotence; and understood that he was not given to accept or reject the universe; this is only to accept or reject me, a tiny fragment of the universe.

You are sick. You exist by death. And not life.