Book: Some thoughts. Page 5

Expressing thoughts in words, be charitable with her: do not be like the butcher split a warm carcass.

Don't think you correctly understand their own thoughts.

It is unlikely that the Truth will fall on you from the sky: more often it is buried in a dungeon, away from the prying eyes of the public loitering.

No flickers with the Nature of Things: she doesn't like.

Gnezditskii in Eternity, not talk in vain with your feet.

The person usually doesn't reach the sun of Truth seeking; feeling it, snooty scientists, philosophers, shrugged, and put the wings in an attempt to rise above the plain in the Public Consciousness and falling, breaking on the sharp rocks Immoderate Practicality or drowning in a swamp of Skeptical Indifference.

Creating his sexual theory of Sigmund Freud a little overdone, and now the public subconscious mind no room for other instincts.

Biting into the thick Sense, the philosopher knocks chunks of knowledge, and, grunting, drags them to the surface where they crumble into dust under the heel of Public Demand.

Life gives me food for thought, but to digest it, my brain can not. Or is it supposed to do stomach?

The subtle world is richer dense: for example, a different philosophy can be called obscurantism, and bad cooking - ever.

How is the book? A writer steals the minds of his readers, and then extinguishes them with sauce Personal Preferences.

The world imposes on me their needs, wrapping them my desires and I, knowing his game, out of love or pity are going to meet him, and thirst, and seek.

... And finally tightly closed Elevator doors, driving away my inner self. It was twilight of perception, and all muffled was heard the chatter of thoughts, desires, noises, and other flavors of life.

If the external person can be compared to a peacock's tail, internal, like muscles, its folding and smoothing.