Book: Solaris. Page 1

Think we have named all the stars and planets, and maybe they already had their names?

Not going to bother you, just say you're trying to an inhuman situation to act like people. Maybe it's beautiful, but useless. However, in the beauty I'm not sure either, unless stupidity can be beautiful?

... I'm looking at you and trying to tell you that you are dearer to me than those twelve years I have devoted to Solaris and I want to be with you. Maybe your appearance is supposed to be torture, maybe service, maybe microscopic study. Expression of friendship, a treacherous blow, perhaps a mockery? Maybe all together, or - what seems to me the most plausible - something quite different. But in the end aren't we to take the intentions of our parents, as they would each other any different? You can tell that these intentions our future depends, and with this I agree. Can not anticipate what is to come. As well as you. Can't even promise you that I'll always love. After what happened, I have nothing surprised. Maybe tomorrow you will become a green jellyfish? It does not depend on us. But that depends on us, be together. Isn't that enough?

At this point I wanted to be alone. I've never dare to nothing came... Looking into the darkening sky, in the stars, which was only a transparent shadow of the earth stars, I stood without movement, and in the emptiness, which succeeded the mad race of thoughts, growing without words is dead, indifferent confidence that there unattainable for me in the depths of consciousness, where I had chosen and, pretending that nothing happened, did not even have the strength to disguise myself.

I'm here, in the uppermost niche of the North wall of the cemetery. Through the gap in the niche clogged with snow and lying there for months.
Me too, me too.

If it then disappears, so I wanted it. So I killed her.

We used to torture each other with excessive candor, naively seeking salvation in it.

I'm talking about the God whose imperfection is not the result of naivete that created it people, and it is a essential an intrinsic property. It has to be a God limited in his omniscience and omnipotence, who wrongly anticipates the future of their creations, whose development is predetermined by him of phenomena can lead to horror. God... this is lame, who wants always more than may not be immediately aware of it. He designed the watch, but not the time they measure. Systems or mechanisms that serve for specific purposes, but they have outgrown these goals and changed them. And made the infinity, which measures its power for what it was supposed to be turned into a limitless extent of his defeat.
<...>
This is the only God I would be inclined to believe, whose flour is not the atonement saves no one, nothing is, it just is.

I leaned over her and lifted the short sleeve dress. Over similar to the flower label from smallpox vaccination blushed a little puncture mark. Although I wasn't expecting this (as you still instinctively tried to find the logic in scraps is not possible), I was not myself. I touched my finger to the wound, which I did for years, so I woke up with a groan on the ravaged bed, always in the same position - curled up as she lay, when I found her she was cold. Probably, in the dream I was trying to do what she wanted to beg for forgiveness or to be with her in those final moments, when she has already felt the effect of the injection and were scared. She was afraid to even the usual scratches, absolutely could not stand pain or the sight of blood and now you've done such a terrible thing, leaving five words on a postcard, addressed to me. The card was in my wallet, I wore it at all times, thumbed, torn at the folds and had not the courage to break up with her, a thousand times coming back to the moment when she wrote it, and what she was supposed to feel. I tried to tell myself that she wanted to make a joke and scare me and just randomly dose was too high. Friends tried to convince me that everything was exactly or what it was instant decision caused by depression, sudden depression. But they didn't know...
Five days before, I told her everything and to hurt her even more, began to collect things. And she, when I was Packed, asked very quietly: "You know what that means?.." I did not understand, but perfectly understood. I thought she was a coward and told her about it, and now she was lying across the bed and looked at me carefully, like he didn't know I killed her.

- A religion I don't know, ' he said, after a pause. - This was never... necessary. If I well understand, and I'm afraid so, you're thinking about some of the evolving God, who develops in time and grows, rising to higher and higher levels of power, to the realization of his own impotence? This God - creature that got into the divinity, as in a situation with no way out, and realizing this, began to despair. Yes, but desperate God - this is man, my dear. Are you talking about man... This is not only bad philosophy but bad mystic.

As you can see the ocean, if you are not able to understand each other?

But desperate God is the same person...

The age-old faith of lovers and poets in the omnipotence of love, overcomes death which has haunted us for centuries, the words "love is stronger than death" is a lie. But this lie is not ridiculous, it's meaningless. But to be a clock counting down the time, then parse, then collect again in the mechanism which the designer barely touch the pendulum starts on despair and love, know that you're just a repeater MUK tembolee strong, the funnier they become their recurrence?

Really don't depend on your will.