Book: Arch. Page 3

The more we talk to each other, the less understand something. There are things that can neither understand nor explain. Thank God that we still have something dark, dense, a piece of the jungle...

Even Christ himself, if he were without a passport, was thrown in jail.

Tearful cheap enough sometimes the soul is stronger than all Chopin's Nocturnes.

The joy is there, outside the window is the morning dew, ten minutes of silence, while the day has not yet released his claws...

... even perfect is not necessary to turn on the drama.
(... great is unlikely to be dramatic.)

And who needs frugality? You, too, no one cares.

Nowhere no one and nothing is waiting for us <...> So all his life with only himself and a drag.

Not so many things happens in our day. Look in the history books, and you can easily make sure that we have got more times of relative calm.

- At first we think we are helping someone, and when people are the hardest stop to help.

She knew what she wants. Life was not to her a mystery.

May be the coffee that he so strongly turned me on.

Women need to either deify or to quit. The third is not given.

How many times he saw this dream! Ravic, motionless, looked at the moon that lighten the Ohr Hozer of all colors of the world. Dreams, the full horror of the Nazi torture chambers, the frozen individuals were tortured friends, dry-eyed, petrified grief of those who remained alive - dreams are full of the agony of separation and the loneliness, which is not to tell any words...

But if the crystal cracked under the heavy hammer of doubt, it best to glue no more. Glue, to lie and watch as he barely refracts the light instead of flash glare! Nothing is returned. Nothing is restored.