Book: The Union of Jewish policemen

When they clashed, each were just a couple of minutes to return to a primitive state, like the team, shipwrecked. This is the family. With storms and ships, and unknown shores. Hats and moonshine made from bamboo and coconut made with your own hands. Extracted and by friction fire to ward off predators.

You can arbitrarily carefully to make ends meet, but for the dead already there is no difference.

...people who are afraid to lose his grip often don't notice that they have long since lost it.

- Are you saying I can leave?
- You're a free man.
- Don't believe it.

If you really must violate the Sabbath, at least, use your sins in detail.

... Mrs. Shpilman had known that, despite all its perfection, beauty and fire, no girl will never fit her son. But there is always a mismatch, isn't it?

Are you married, detective?
- I was married.
The marriage broke up?
- I think that is the best definition. - For a second, he thinks. - Perhaps it is.

... never before never be zero without a stick, crazy little Jew, armed with a gun. He has no idea how to act in such circumstances, unless pressed to the heart like a souvenir of love, his confidence that ultimately nothing has any value.

... when you're a pessimist, all signs are bad.

The need for alcohol is reminiscent of tooth It is impossible to turn away from him, still there is some perverse pleasure in constantly to reopen the language of the hole.

Every generation loses the Moshiach, and not being able to qualify for it.

Landsman for many years struggled with the burdens of parental expectations, but had no idea of what happens when expectations come true or when reality exceeds expectations.

There are rules. But there are rules.

Dip the donut in a paper Cup, where it waits for the milk tea, and close my eyes for ten endless seconds, and acquire the ability to witness something even more beautiful.