Book: The clown

I have to go the way I have to go.

In the life of a child, everything, even the most banal, acquires significance.

Free time for a non-artist is the same as working time for a clown. All people, from a highly paid manager to ordinary workers, know what free time is. And the clown has free moments - he sits down comfortably and, having smoked some half a cigarette, is imbued with the consciousness of what it means to be free. But the so-called vacation is like death for us.

No need to disturb the bygone moments, it is not necessary them back.

I don't understand the American morality. I think the Americans would have been burned at the stake compassionate woman, declaring her a witch, every woman who makes "same" not for money not for passion, but only out of compassion for man's nature.

Dear China, when it sarkawt on the wall of the kitchen, makes cheap sound.

Of people there is nothing so discouraging as a clown, pathetic. It's as if you've just been served a beer by a waiter in a wheelchair.

My condition, which some critics described as a "lyrical and ironic cheerfulness" that hides the "warm heart", in fact it was nothing but cold despair with which I turned into a puppet; however, bad sometimes, when I lose the thread and become yourself.

Sentimentality is an insidious, treacherous thing. You can't touch the moments, not to repeat them.

The clown who started drinking will roll downhill faster than zapivshego roofer falls off the roof.

In the world not so many people, in whose presence you can cry.

To repent of serious misconduct a breeze: political errors, adultery, murder, anti-Semitism, but who can forgive, who can understand the little things?

... I hate to explain poetic images. Either understand me or not. To interpret the texts are not my specialty.

I have long ceased to talk with people about money and about art. Where these categories into each other, it's not good: the art is either underpaid or overpaid.