Book: Doctor Zhivago. Page 2

Ever since he could remember, he never ceased to wonder how it is at a uniformity of arms and legs and a common language and habits, you can be not what all, and, moreover, something that like a little and what I do not like?

I'm incredibly, passionately want to live, because to live means to always endeavor forward, to higher, to perfection and to achieve it.

The unfree man always idealizes his slavery.

Revolution people produce effective, one-sided fanatics, geniuses of self-restraint. They are in a few hours or days upset the old order. The upheavals last for weeks, many years, and then decades, centuries worshiped the spirit of limitation that led to the coup, as the Shrine.

Goodbye, only love, forever lost!

My whole being was astonished and asked: if it's so painful to love and absorb electricity, as probably even harder to be a woman, to be the electricity, to inspire love.

But let's go crazy, my heart, if nothing but the madness, we left.

All home overturned and destroyed. There was one non-domestic, is inapplicable power naked to the bone stripped of soul, for which nothing has changed because she at all times table, shook and stretched to the nearest next, the same naked and alone.

I without mind, without memory, without end love you.

In domestic Affairs, these enterprising, self-confident, imperious people are irreplaceable. In matters of the heart matusadona mustachioed male complacency disgusting. I know differently intimacy and life.

Even more than the communion of souls, they were United by the abyss separating them from the rest of the world. They were both equally out of favor all fatally typical in modern man, he memorized the enthusiasm, loud the elation and the death besylate, which was so carefully spread innumerable workers of arts and Sciences to the genius continued to remain very rare.
Their love was great. But like everything, not noticing nebyvaloi feelings.
For them - and this was their uniqueness - the moment when, like the spirit of eternity, in their doomed human existence blew a breath of passion were moments of revelation and recognition ever new about yourself and life.

All his life he ever get anything done, ever been busy working around the house, treating, thought, studied, and produced. How good it was to cease to act, to achieve, to think and to submit this work to nature, to become a thing, a concept, a work in her gracious, delightful, beauty lavished hands!

And so far, cool and attractive was that which he gave, which all would prefer and contrasting all down and discolor!

Why are we always apart?