Book: Lavender room

Habit is a dangerous, vain goddess. She does not allow anything that would disrupt its power. She kills one point after another. The longing for travel, another job, a new love. It interferes with life the way we want. Because we habitually think, if you want more of what we do.

The only problem is that many people, mainly women, think their body must be perfect to be loved. In fact, it should only be able to love. And allow yourself to love yourself.

Inhale and exhale, and in between life.

Foolishness of love is the most beautiful stupidity. Here only they have to pay for the most expensive.

Surely happiness is something that we can appreciate only in retrospect?

Love is the apartment. The apartment should be used as directed. Nothing should be closed with covers or "keep away". He lives as one who is in love and feels like home and is not afraid to enter a particular room, open a particular door. To fight or caress each other, hold each other or, when the time comes, to repel each other - everything is important. It is of existential value to use in every room of the apartment. Otherwise it will settle the signs and smells. The running room and the house is fraught with danger and stench.

Sometimes I take a sleeping pill to help me sleep, and sometimes Rilke - to cheer up.

Pain is a cancer of the soul.

We all stored in your time. We store old editions of men who have left us. We ourselves - the old editions, under its shell, under my skin, beneath the wrinkles under the burden of the experience and echoes of laughter. There, beneath the rubble, we're the same, old, former. Former children, former lovers, former daughter.

Jeannot, women love a hundred times smarter than men! They never like a man only for his body. Even if they like it, and really like it. Women love you for the character. For the strength. For the mind. Because you can protect the child. Because you're a good man, with honor and dignity. They never like as stupid as men love women. Because you have beautiful legs or that you look fabulous in a suit, so your friends and colleagues envious bite my lip when she introduces you to them. Such women are also there, but they only exist to be a warning to others.

Listening in silence is the key to successful determination of the parameters of the soul.

The book is an unshakable rock in the shifting Sands of unpredictable.

And when this "machine" one day will stop, people who previously communicated exclusively by means of computers, dies from a sudden silence, pure sun and the intensity of their own, unfiltered sensory perception. They die from an overdose of life.

Love does not prevent one spouse nailed to the wall, other that that it's terribly annoying.