Book: The signal to surrender

... they were at that stage of love when a favorite like, not only what he actually has, and how he wants to appear, when like to accept not only the truth, and half-truths about him. After all, not hiding, that's not quite true, he seems to be giving you the highest confidence.

It happens sometimes that people quite happy by himself. Memories of such moments rather any other rescue in a difficult moment of desperation. You know what is able to be happy alone and without any apparent reason. You know it is possible. And if the person is unhappy with another, hopelessly, almost organically dependent on it, these memories return of confidence.

With love forever, so you never know, reality or a dream.

She was kind of an excuse not to think about the future: short life line.

To a man and a woman loved each other enough to laugh together. We still make each other suffer.

Anxiety even stronger jealousy spurs passion.

Men always some trouble, but don't shed they tears.

You can't smoke on an empty stomach. However, it is also a lot to drink, too fast to drive a car, too hard to make love to overwork the heart, waste money. Nothing is impossible.

There can be nothing above the moment when you found the other half of yourself.

A man can't respect a mistress, if not love.

Love clings to any straw, interprets in his favor, even what is seemingly against her.

There is in this music something cruel, like someone was trying to be happy and kind, and instead made others suffer and now he doesn't know who he is and what.

You too love to be happy. But you have something else terribly attractive. How to say... the Eternal impulse? Seems like you're always on the move, although not going anywhere. Something like gluttony, though you do not wish to have. Something like a gaiety, although you rarely laugh. You know, people so often look tired of life, exhausted. You and your life abounds.

Sometimes he furtively threw her glances. Lucille was extremely lazy. How little she needs for happiness, her ability to do absolutely nothing, nothing to think, her gift to settle for such an empty, inactive, monotonous days - all this seemed to him strange, almost monstrous. Antoine knew that she loves him and not because she is bored with him. But he knew also that such a lifestyle is consistent with its nature, while for him, this emptiness was a temporary pause, a tribute of passion. Sometimes it seemed to him that with him not a woman, and the strange animal, unknown to the plant, the Mandrake.