Book: The night in Lisbon. Page 6

In General, it is bad, Joseph. All bad. But outwardly, everything looks brilliant.

Never had that kind of faith in miracles, as in our time, alien kinds of miracles.

Incurable cancer of the soul.

We live in an age of paradoxes. For the sake of peace forced to war.

Half-asleep, she quietly spoke to me. It was a child's babbling and the whisper of the beloved - the words that fear the light of day in a normal, quiet life are rarely heard even in the night; words of grief and farewell, the anguish of two bodies who do not want to be separated, the tenderness of the skin and blood, words of pain and eternal complaints - the oldest complaints in the world - that the two can't be together and that someone has to go first, that death is not dying away, every second scratching near us - even then, when fatigue embraces us and we wish at least for an hour to lose yourself in the illusion of eternity.

You know, of course, that time is a weak infusion of death. We are constantly, slowly pour it like a harmless drug. First, he quickens us, and we even begin to believe that we are almost immortal. But day after day and drop by drop - it is getting stronger and stronger and eventually turns into a caustic acid, which stirs up and destroys our blood.

Hate is an acid that corrodes the soul; still - hate myself or hate the other.

And - strangely enough - it happens, maybe it is because I thought about it.

However, if you know how to laugh, in today's world you can find a lot of funny. What do you think?

You seem to believe in a miracle.

And we own actually? Why so much noise about things which at best are given to us only for a time; why so much talk about how we owned them more or less then how deceptive the word "own" means only one thing: to hug the air?

Remembering is always, and sorry about the good that took our time, and about the bad that has failed to correct.

Had the world not seem so beautiful as at that moment when you say goodbye to him when you are deprived of freedom. If you could experience the world as always! But it is clear that we have not enough time. And peace.

Unpleasant memories there's one good side: they convince the person that he is now happy, even if a second ago he didn't believe it. Happiness is such a relative concept! Who had grasped it rarely feels absolutely miserable.