Book: Golden temple

For me it was absolutely clear: my feelings, too, suffer from stuttering, they are always delayed. Therefore, the event of the death of his father, and the feeling of grief there for me separately and independently from each other. A small shift in time, a slight delay in me breaking the connection between the phenomenon and emotion, and this discrepancy for me is the most natural state. If I grieve, that my grief is not caused by any specific reason, she comes to me spontaneously and for no reason...

Nothing else, if I tried to justify your true feelings, but it sometimes happened that stuff from me causes me and impose unexpected emotions alien to my nature initially.

Apparently, it is inevitable that people who think only of the Beautiful, can not sink into the abyss he thought.

Oh, how much easier to love the dead than the living!

No consciousness and no act can compare with the pleasure to sail upon the waves into the unknown.

Beauty can be given to everyone, but it does not belong to anyone.

If you feel sorry for the man any feelings, I thought, you're entitled to a response - no matter, love or hatred.

Every event and phenomenon can be excused if you look at it from the point of view of the final result.

Beauty, which you so worn, is a Chimera, a Mirage created by the redundant part of our soul, which is assigned to the consciousness. Thus ghostly "way to lighten the burden of life", you were talking about. You can probably say that no beauty exists. To say it is possible, but our own consciousness gives the Chimera of power and reality. Beauty has the mind of comfort. She is his mistress, the wife, but not the Comforter. However, this marriage brings her child. The fruit of the marriage ephemeral, like a bubble, and just as meaningless. It is called art.

For me, observation is the best proof that I live. But today I first time saw so close the other person's eyes. The laws of perspective, driving my vision was broken. An outsider without any shyness invaded my world, I felt the warmth of another's body, breathed in the aroma of cheap perfume; soon this invasion has swallowed me without a trace. For the first time right before my eyes the world of another person merged with mine.

The first experience of physical love has been so poor compared to removablemedia me Paradise paintings that I just had to try again to get a little closer to the image that existed in my imagination.

Such is my nature: all actions committed by me in real life, are only true, but a poor imitation of fantasies. However, imagination is not the word, I mean the internal memory, fed by springs of my soul. I have always felt that any event that happens with me, it had happened before, and was much brighter and greater.

Not come to terms with the conditions of its existence and at the same time believe that no one will love you - there is no contradiction. After all, if I would tolerate the idea that I can fall in love, it would mean that I've come to terms with life. And I realized one thing: we must have the courage to soberly assess things, but it is equally important to have the courage to fight with this assessment. Catch - I a finger does not hit, and it appeared that I have something fighting.

Crippled, in my opinion, something similar to beautiful women. And those and others are tired of always facing them looks, they are fed up with the constant attention, they hunted this attention and openly say look at a glance. Who's not looking away, he wins.