Book: Recognition and curse. Page 3

His face now a shadow of ridicule. This is because he felt for the lives of almost petty affection. Those who clung to her face was a mocking smile - a sign of liberation and victory. They do not go into oblivion, they come out of it.

Everything comes too late, everything is too late.

Optimism is known to be the spasm of a dying man.

The more age, the weaker becomes the character. Whenever his show, you feel embarrassed, you look uptight. Hence the sense of unease to those who pose a conviction.

I can not understand, can I take myself seriously or not. The tragedy of detachment is that its depth is impossible to measure. You're going deeper into the desert, but you never know what kind of point are.

Opening an anthology of religious texts, I immediately attacked the saying of Buddha: "not a single object worth wanting". I immediately closed the book, for what else to read after that?

If I acted in accordance with his first impulse, I would have done that all day swear and wrote farewell letters.

Those nights when you convince yourself that everything - even the dead have left this world and if you are the last person alive, the last Ghost.

The knowledge of the value of the absolute - is the liberation from everything.

My dependence on climatic conditions will never allow me to accept the sufficiency of the will. Meteorology determines the mood of my thoughts.

His carelessness amazes and delights me. He is in a hurry or trying to go somewhere, nothing exciting. You would think that at birth, he drank the sedative is still in effect, so that its face was enduring the smile.

Infinitely to withdraw into himself as God after the six days of Creation. At least follow his example.

Sometimes, of course, the clinical melancholy, which sometimes can be affected by medicines; but there is another, implicitly present in us even in moments of high Jinks and accompanying us everywhere, never once leaving alone. Nothing to free us from this pernicious omnipresence: it has become our "I", forever lurking in front of the person himself.

Anyone who died in his youth, sooner or later will repent.