Book: When God was a rabbit

- We are good together.
Not bad, eh? <...> Well? Since when is "not bad" was the reason for marriage?

Someone who knows what life is like living.

The coat was white in front, black sleeves and black back; it was tight as the knee, only much less useful. Cold it is, however, not missed, but I was certain it was not because of the quality of the fabric, and only because the cold, barely close to me, dying with laughter.

Recently, my mother started reading us a book about child psychology. It was stated that about feelings you need to talk. We as a result want to shut up forever.

I knew something took me, and instead gave eternal longing for the past, by the past, where there was neither shame nor fear. I now have this longing had a voice, and he was like the howl of a wounded animal, bored at home.

Christmas decorations were the same as last year: a faded, old. Around the portrait of the Queen they sagged so sad that it bordered on treason.

- I am a Jew, - said Mr. Golan, but first of all I'm a man.

She went out and leaned against the wall, tried to cry, but tears didn't come yet, how did not come to understand what happened. No one tried to comfort her. Each had its own mountain. And every mountain was harder than yours.

- Do you think a rabbit could be God?
Personally, I know of no reason why Bunny could not be God.

- Do you believe in God, Arthur? I asked, eating the remains of the cake.
- Do I believe in an old man with a beard who sits on a cloud and judges us mortals, referring to the list of ten items? No, dear Ellie, of course not! If I believed, with my dubious biography I probably would have a hard time. Do I believe in the miracle of life, in an inexplicable mystery of life? That there is something bigger than us, and that gives it meaning, gives us something to strive for and the humility to start all over again? Yes, I do believe. Herein lies the source of beauty, art, love and goodness. This for me is God. This for me is life. That's what I believe.

Fear is contagious and dangerous. Even for those who are not afraid of anything.

The world remains the same, only becoming slightly worse.

- Yesterday, shot and killed Gianni Versace, I said, opening the newspaper.
- Gianni whom?
- Versace. Designer.
- But, this... I never liked his clothes.
She again leaned back against the pillows and immediately fell asleep, comforted perhaps by the fact that in the world there is at least some justice.

... the incident was certainly tragic, but all participants shortly before lunch and because he died happy.