Book: Arch. Page 4

When a person has almost nothing left in life, he and small ready to give an excessively large value.

Strange, how easy to forget everything except the smell.

If the person is so foul-mouthed, so you can buy.

Because we, too, will not repeat. Yesterday is over, and no tears, no pleas will not return it to us.

Murders will not achieve much. Who are often killed, would not kill for love. Otherwise death becomes something funny and insignificant. But death is never funny. It is always significant.

- We live as counterfeiters. - Frost raised his newspaper and shook them.
- Look! They are building military factories and claim that they want peace. They are building concentration camps, and claimed to be the defenders of truth.
Political intolerance appears under the guise of justice, political gangsters pretending to be benefactors of mankind, freedom has become a vociferous slogan seekers after power.
Fake money! False spiritual coin! False propaganda! Kitchen Machiavellianism. Proud ideals in the hands of scum.
Where can we be honest?

Happiness starts with you and you will end. It's so simple.

- You don't know how to love. You never jump in the pool.
- But you - always. That's why you always someone makes a save.

There is no return for anyone. Nowhere.

What once United us, now destroyed. We crumbled like glass beads to break the skin. Nothing steady.

Previously, it was not so: the man was more confident, he had some kind of support in life, in something he believed, something he achieved. And if it was struck by a love that helped him to survive. Today we have nothing but despair, the pitiful remnants of courage and feelings of internal and external alienation from everything. If today love comes to man, it's eating him like a fire a stack of dry hay. Nothing but her, and she becomes extremely significant, unrestrained, devastating, withering.

The surest way to get rid of the love of a woman - from time to time to sleep with her. Not to give vent to the imagination.

I hate perfection! It is contrary to human nature.

It's amazing to what ridiculous etiquette of grief. You catch me dead drunk and decorum would be observed. And I played chess and then went to bed. And this is not to say that I'm callous or heartless.