Book: When will it snow?

A woman should be a figurine, not the Eiffel tower.

He could always leave and everyone wanted to jump up and run after him, to bring him back. And this, I believe, a gift from God to be able to leave on time so that everyone will want you back.

Umbrellas are cute and good arrangements. The nicest thing people have invented.

Back in town with warm days. They returned with redoubled tenderness, as a return unfaithful wife. All day the sky had been frivolous, restless clouds, and dry, lean at autumn leaves are densely lying on the ground silently, without rustling. These days the city seemed to be in a warm and some a blissful swoon, he indulged in the fall, this volatile liar, and not believed, wanted to believe in the imminent onset of cold weather...

And anyway, it's a terrible thing - a visit to the seriously ill. You pity him and make sympathetic face, and I think to myself about how I don't want to Wake tomorrow on a fishing trip.

- Why did you come here to see me? Well, then let's talk.
- Let's talk! - he agreed.
And we fell silent.

Well, smile, I wanna kiss your smile.

Never has one man cannot take another's place. And especially this concerns women. When the woman dies, with her dies the whole world, not the world - a whole era in human life; youth, lived with her intentions and thoughts that were associated with her, die with her gestures, voice, facial expressions, gait. What person, when what could be in old pleasant memory, turns into a nightmare, in a continuous nagging wound? How could another woman, even in his familiar and close, to close this wound? In my opinion, no...