Book: Reader

I do not know what diagnosis doctors give to a person who does not freeze when he should be freezing.

Guess that's what happens with the old couple, I thought: the wife keeps seeing an old husband as he was in his youth, and for him it continues to keep the youth and attractiveness.

If I fell in love with her because she slept with me? Still after a night spent with a woman, I sometimes feel like I made a gift to which I will reply: reply to this woman - for example, an attempt to love her - and around the world, gifts which I accept.

I wanted to prove themselves in one and the other: understanding and condemnation. But both together was impossible.

If nobody understands you, then nobody can demand from you.

... Escape is not just a removal from something, but towards something.

I thought if you missed it or are you in something for a long time was denied, then it is already too late, even if conquered with great efforts and brought great joy. Maybe "too late" does not exist, and is only just "later" and maybe really "better late than never"? I do not know.

When he began to cough, it is decided that the cause of the Austrian cigarettes. Then came the intense heat, I even like him. I felt weak and at the same time extraordinary lightness, the sensation was pleasantly muted, I was as if enveloped in cotton wool. I seemed to be floating above the ground.

If it is true what they say, is that is done, then the conversations are not needed.

What a curse to be sick in childhood or adolescence! Street expanse coming from behind the window, the courtyard only invited sounds. In a room crowded with characters with their own stories from books read to a sick child. The heat, dulling the sense of reality, heightens the imagination and opens in familiar surroundings is something strange and weird; in the patterns of curtains mereschatsya terrible monster, they make faces with the pattern of the Wallpaper; the chairs and tables, cabinets and bookcases turned into a pile of rocks, a fancy building or ships, which seems to be at hand, but at the same time they are somewhere far, far away. But long hours of night we hear the chimes from the Church tower, the quiet rumble of a passing car - behind the lights running along the walls and ceiling. Hours without sleep - but that does not mean that they lack something, on the contrary. They are filled with longing, memories, anxieties, vague desires are woven into a labyrinth where we lose and find himself again, to get lost again. This watch, when everything becomes possible - both good and bad.

We open up to each other,
you me and I you
we are immersed in each other,
you in me I in you
we melt into each other,
you are in me and I in you.
Only in these moments
I'm me you're you.

By the way, are there any happy memories, isn't it a contradiction in this phrase?

Denial is the most subtle form of betrayal.

The Odyssey is the story of motion both purposeful and purposeless, successful and futile.