Book: Where do you live happy?

Youth is hot, proud and too fair.

The best sermon of a priest is his life in plain sight.

For me, the people working in the zone are five-core sufferers, doomed to early cynicism, thick-skinned. How else to stand here behind the barbed wire fence?

The prayer of the saints is quick, because its path to the Lord is shorter. So far, we will shout through the veil of our grave sins.

Remember Lot's wife? Go don't look back. This is the first thing for us monks.

All her life, working without unbending her back, checking her tears and lamentation in the forest, she has absolutely not mastered the necessary modern science of spinning. Whoever is not skilled in it, our everyday life and holidays are not sweet.

What then is professionalism? A good doctor, probably, is precisely because of the rarity that it is not easy, painful to take on someone else's misfortune as it is, entirely and experience it as your own.

How scary to say - I'm Orthodox. They look at you, moreover, they stare at you intently, look for a speck in your eye, examine you for virtue. Are we all excellent in Orthodox records? Or dead, skinny C-grades expose our essence, and we, in order not to light up, make a good face with a bad game?

A serious step towards Orthodoxy, because once calling yourself a Christian, you burn behind you the bridges of the life you lived in, in which you were just you. Now you are a servant of God and in this joyful bondage strength is drawn for adversity, and for defeat, and for injured pride, and for the highest art of sacrificial love.

Love works with the person miracles. Her hot touch instantly melts the Packed snow and even permafrost is in danger, if love is patient and true. But loving children is one side of the coin. Another is to teach the child to love others. Teacher, which is today a headache and a bad mood. Classmate, "inherited" the flat jokes. And even the mother, the one that knows the recipe for pancakes. Make love - joy. To love others - work.

Only a compassionate heart capable of pity. Other. Himself a compassionate heart regret can not.

Prayer is a special work. It has its own mystery, its own laws and its fishery.

Eye pain is not the hand - wringing and trembling voice. Eye pain can't even play a brilliant actor.

People in need are almost always lonely. People in need is vulnerable and weakened. Grief breaks the soul, mangles, mutilates. And here it is, a rich palette of miserable existence: who are angry, who fell into madness, who is drunk, who immured herself within the four walls. Terrible forefinger of trouble. Today she will poke at that tomorrow without knocking burst into the peace and prosperity of the other, day after tomorrow will knock down the third. But a number of people.