Book: Cynics. Page 3

If you believe the venerable English diplomat, Ivan the terrible tried to teach my ancestors to smile. For this purpose he ordered during walks or driveways "behead those who came across to meet him if their faces he did not like".
But even these drastic measures have not brought any where. We have dark characters.

- Vladimir, do you believe in anything?
I think not.
- Stupid. Sammie, who prays to the stump of the tree stump is smarter than you...
She lit a new cigarette. What kind of account?
- ... and me.
She eats the smoke big men's SIPS:
- In anything, but only believe!
And very quietly:
Otherwise...

I was not to see that brilliant Symphony more content than in a brilliant salad.

Dokuchaev did not believe in the existence of "not taking". All take! The only question is what. He scoffs at such words as friendship, service, kindness, care, gratitude, sympathy, concern, care, courtesy. In his language it's called one word: bribe.
Dokuchaev - a terrible man.

All faith is bored, like chopped chicken or noodle soup. From time to time it needs to be changed: Perun, Christ, Socialism.

I think the idea that people are born happy or unhappy just as long-legged or short-legged.

In this country, nothing will understand and forgive the terrible rasterzal Otrepiev; seven hundred years has been a failed war and conquering Nations more than the Roman Empire; not able to do any "fusa" and builds up in the swamp town, the most beautiful in the world.

On that shelf is my favorite Cup. I drink from her coffee with relish. Its capacity is three-quarters of the glass. Exactly what requires my stomach at ten o'clock in the morning.
In addition, I am pleased with soft egg-shaped Cup shape and the coloring of porcelain. Amazing tones! I see bleyl, the Copperhead, XpH and Bokan winecase.
I am pleased to hold this Cup in his hand, to touch the lips of her gilded edges. What proportions! It would be a crime to increase or decrease tolstotu porcelain on a leaf of tissue paper.
Of course, I drink coffee sometimes and other cups. Even from a glass. If me will plant in prison as "a henchman of the bourgeoisie," I'm going to strain watery transmission of smelly, shelled brick tin mugs.
Similarly, if Olga had gone from me for three or four months, I probably would have come to bed to Marfa.
But does that change the merits of the case? Is CUP ceases to be the only one for me in the world?

I don't believe in love "forty thousand brothers". Who loves everyone, he loves no one. Who is good to all, he treats nobody good.

- Olga, I beg of your hand.
Is very helpful, Vladimir. This morning I learned that our house is all winter to operate Central heating. If not for your suggestion, I would certainly in December turned into an ice Popsicle. Can you imagine to sleep in one chromatide, where you can play hockey?
So...
- I agree.

I don't have to ask yourself: "do I Love Olga?"
If a man today for his beloved black smears vaseline enema tip, and the next day dies with an armful of roses at the electric bell at her door - he had no reason to ask yourself stupid questions.
The love that suffocated a hose from the enema, is immortal.

Olga about the SRS nice said: "they are like our LOCT - if also did not finish high school".

If Russia ever will Bonaparte, then of course he will grow out militiaman. It is absolutely in the spirit of my country.

We pass under a cheerful colorful cell - domes of Saint Basil. I admire the invention of the Barm and the faster: not everyone comes to mind to put on the head among Moscow Italian harlequin.