Book: Under a glass cover

Buddy Willard was a hypocrite. Of course, at first I didn't know that. It seemed to me that he is the most beautiful of all the guys I knew. I adored him from a distance for five years, before he looked at me, and then came the wonderful time when I still adored him, and he began to glance at me. And then, when he increasingly looked at me, I by chance discovered, he's a terrible hypocrite. Now he wanted me to marry him and I hated him with all my heart.

The silence oppressed me. It was not the silence of a peaceful silence. It was the silence inside me. I knew that the machines are noisy, and that the people sitting in the cars and the lighted Windows, too noisy, and that the river makes a little noise, but I heard nothing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, but he was not actually hanging, despite all the good that he brought me.

... wherever I was - on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok - I would still be under the same glass cover, varyas in its own juice and desperately searching for a way out.

I thought that I would continue to swim away from shore until I have enough strength to return. When I rowed forward, heart was thumping in my ears, like muffled knocking of the engine.
I am, I am, I am.

My favorite tree was called "Chaos scribe". It seemed to me that it was brought from Japan. They know a lot about spiritual things and do Hara-Kiri if something went wrong.

If someone do not expect anything, you'll never be disappointed.

Should be, there is light at the misfortune, which will not heal and the hot tub, but I almost do not know. As soon as I begin to weary sadness, as soon as I feel myself dying as soon as I get mad to such an extent that I can't sleep, as soon as someone will fall in love, or being separated from a lover for a week once I reach a certain point of despair, I tell myself, "take me now hot bath".

From somewhere in the distance I see a man, which will seem impeccable, but as soon as he comes closer, I start to open it one fault after another, and eventually decides that he is no good.

... I could have sworn that he thinks I'm completely nutty because I told him that I believe in hell, and also that some people, including myself, are doomed to dwell in hell while still alive and it is sent down as a punishment for something they don't believe in an afterlife, and if you do not believe in an afterlife, then it's not waiting for you after death. Everyone, that is to say, according to his faith.

Yes, and if Mrs. Guinea is a private clinic gave me a trip to Europe or some round-the-world cruise, it is also absolutely nothing would change because no matter where I found myself on the deck of the ship or a street café in Paris or Bangkok - I would have been under the same glass cover and would breathe only poisoned me the air.

If wanting two mutually exclusive things at the same time means neurasthenia, well, okay, then I got neurasthenia. Because the rest of my days I am going to rush from one thing to another.

I felt something of a running horse in a world where suddenly canceled the run.

The silence oppressed me. Silence and silence. And it wasn't the silence of the surrounding. It was my own silence.

There is something deeply becassue that watching two people more and more fall in love with each other, especially if you're the only witness of this scene.