Book: Mechanical happy land. Page 2

Don't stop laughing, and the luck of the Irish smile on you.

History always repeats itself. First flight introduces us to the true faith. First. Enough to stand here fifteen minutes or half an hour and look at the space, realizing that you're insignificant, like a fussy bird. Look at these fucking beautiful stars and catch myself on the fact that you fell on your knees and crying back. Abdominal fever, headache. And since you will always be meek and humble.

Self-preservation is eternal and all-inclusive instinct. It is characteristic of both metals and amoeba. It is characteristic of both people and metal.

Space is no place to talk about love. As, however, for any conversations. It's like laughing out loud in a huge Cathedral or attempt to waltz under the hymns.

In the universe there are miracles, which is impossible to pay tribute to the noise, and only a respectful silence. It's like shouting "Bravo!" during a magnificent Liturgy in the Church, or clap at the sight of a Grand spiral nebulae.