Book: Network for Murderize

About daily routine not telling in the evenings.

Taking care of short-term, we should not forget that ahead of each of us a long way! And it depends on the words spoken is not less than the committed actions.

The king of the rakshasas was thinking about how at home, in Lanka, mocked the prisoners, the humiliation of the heroes amused, feeling their own power hops, circling only the head, the ability to punish or pardon brought heavenly bliss... And it was right - why do we need wealth, power, military victory?! But hell, lived according to other laws. Surreptitiously watching the servants of Yama, the Howler never noticed on their faces malevolent grins or irritation when he yanked on the stake, shouting curses and insults (however, it is somehow saved only in the beginning). A sense of superiority, compassion, enjoyment of other people's pain - absolutely nothing was reflected on the pale faces of the kinnaras. Any torture, any torture behavior - indifferent executioners were part of the torture! Ravana was ready to consider kinnaras insensitive, inferior beings, blunt instrument of another's will. But one day happened to see the two change of kinnaras, went to the side, talking about something among themselves. His tormentors seemed to have changed! One animatedly gesticulating during a story, the second listened carefully, then blurted out two words, again ruffle the red hair and both laughed heartily! Slapping each other on the shoulders and wiping away the tears that sprang from laughter, kinnaras went away, but Ravana still looked after them. From the height of the stake. The case has prompted former Decathlete convincing an entire pack of sages and mentors: the fact that the Rakshasa was once the amusement and approval of their own government, for the kinnaras were working. Routine, routine, monotonous labor, which is a hell of Ministers diligently fulfilled Millennium after Millennium. They were above hatred, joy or compassion. Just every sinner is bound to his and to go to a new rebirth. And in its place another will come. Kinnaras shall torment and the wicked suffer. This is the order. That's The Law. No wonder the second person Belleruche Pit - the same Law-Dharma, and not surprisingly, Prince of the Underworld is the name of Dharma-Raja, the King of Death and Justice. Realizing this, the Howler finally resigned. No one mocked him, didn't want to hurt him - and therefore, there was no one to hate or begging for leniency. That's The Law. Now Ravana often recalled the years of his unparalleled selfless devotion, and sometimes it seemed to him that he now again surrenders himself to austerities and mortification of the flesh. No tormentors around-the kinnaras, no hell fire and rain - all these causes flour and accept himself. Voluntarily. Strange thing: when the current position was presented to the great Rakshasa in this light, the pain of torture weakened.

Today, for example, I am melancholy. In the morning. All day. And evening. And night. The soul is overcast, the previous target stink of carrion, the former grins the grin of the skull, and all proper inside out. And the reverse side at the right... eyes had not looked.

Youth tend pride. Pride and self-assertion - both in their own eyes and in the eyes of others.

Platitude... it is the wisdom that we have forgotten how to understand. Used.

Hope dies last. It remains even when your body is already dead, and the soul is tormented in hell on the verge of complete collapse.

A stranger by the name of Conscience walked behind. Slapping on a talus bare feet, brought down in blood.

The drone looked at her like a hundred times seen her in her sleep, only now being able to meet in reality.

House. The place where worth to go, the house in which to live. The house, whose inhabitants have to make happy, a house-is to tear the throat of the villain who comes with sharp arrows or a flaming torch, the house...the House where the Law is complied with, the Benefits are unquestionable, and the Love alive.

The law is complied with and the Benefits are unquestionable... But what about Love?

The kid really loved life too. Not his own life, and life in General, in all its manifestations. If love is so forever, to laugh, to fall, to cry bitterly, dreaming, excitedly, to fight hard, to be friends, right...
No halftones, only the darkness and the light...
Too to love life means to not hope for reciprocity.

Memory is such a funny thing... like personal executioner.

Freedom begins with the word " no " when you stubbornly shake my head, wipe away the icy sweat and stand one against all.