Book: My name is red

When people... ashamed of you, that is exactly what they do - avoid to look you in the eye.

Dogs speak, but only with those who know how to listen.

Dreams are not what we see when asleep. Tell seen a clear day like the night dream, to use was. In fact, night dreams tell only fools. And over such and bullied at every opportunity to interpret dreams them for evil. Real dreams isn't taken seriously, even by those who saw them.

My loneliness is a special story. Beside me there is none other tree or steppe semilistnik grass or curly Chinese clouds, no rocks, heaps similar to Shaytan, per person. On a piece of paper - the land, the sky, me and the horizon line.

Love makes people stupid in love or just stupid? Really I would like to meet a couple of people who, having fallen in love, become smarter and smarter.

It occurred to me: it's a shame not that you're old and podumaesh, and not even the fact that you will live without a husband, and in poverty; the most insulting is that nobody, absolutely nobody is jealous.

Then he hugged me: a man who knows how to hug, is a good man.

All of this happens: we think we think logically, dream about something for weeks, for years, but suddenly see something - a person, clothes, happy man, and immediately understand that our dreams will never come true.

In the Arabian desert, the snow does not fall only on the sand or construction, but also memories.

You never know what a person thinks at one time or another, sometimes does not know himself. I agree: sometimes I say something and they say, he thought, but when you say words, you know that I think something quite the opposite.

True respect comes not from the heart but from humility and obedience.

I'm happy to be red! Color is touch the eye, the words sounding in the dark. Thousands of years I hear talk of the soul, and therefore I dare to say that to touch me - it's like that touch of the angel. I am visible everywhere. Life begins with me and comes back to me. I paint the world and tell him: "Be!". And he becomes my - bloody - color.

No matter how much you love a person who does not see, gradually forgotten.