Book: The dance of the seven veils

Love can't dissect... to dissect and sort through. There is no law. ... It blinds and kills.

A premonition of death - not the death, but its approach. She's somewhere near... flies in the twilight shadows, hiding his face before the fateful minutes...

Security does not exist. Guarantees do not exist. This is nothing more than illusion which flatters itself with modern society. Civility is a fragile shell, which gives a crack from serious shocks.

Everything comes to an end... Everything is mortal... but the inspiration and love.

Every woman Scheherazade. She tells the man stories, to lull him as a beast. Putting her down, and to destroy.

Behind a thin shell of a personality, represented by the man in society - whether man, woman or innocent girl - bubble abyss, full of houris and monsters. And if the first is readily shown to light, the latter live on the bottom. However and those and others exist. Innocence is not even in my thoughts.

People not only learned how to burn the pots, but also other divine is not alien to them.

We women have inherited curiosity from our ancestress. From Eva. It sits in our genes. Why fight your own essence?

Know what love ecstasy? And the ecstasy of the soul will abruptly... Lust in the body of the kindle is also an art. But to master them any good. That's what soul to take, not every one is. Mystery of mysteries!..