Book: A hero of our time. Page 2

It's all rubbish! - someone said, - where are these loyal people saw the list, which signified the hour of our death? And if there really is predestination, then why do we have the will, the mind? Why do we have to give an account of our actions?

A bad thing in a strange feast hangover.

Our audience is similar to the provincial who, overhearing a conversation between two diplomats belonging to hostile courts, would remain confident that each of them is deceiving his government in favor of mutual tender friendship.

Whether I am a fool or a villain I know not; but it is true that I am also very regrettable, can be more than it is: in my soul corrupted by the light, imagination restless heart insatiable; nothing fits me: a sadness I can just as easily get used as pleasure, and my life becomes emptier day by day...

If you want, I still love her, I am grateful to her for a few fairly sweet moments, I would lay down my life - only I am bored with her...

I hoped that boredom is not living under the Chechen bullets - in vain: after a month I got used to their buzz, and the proximity of death that right, pay more attention to mosquitoes, and I was still boring, because I almost lost hope.

... Disappointment, as all mods, starting with the upper strata of society, had descended to the lower, which it wears, and now those who really miss it, try to hide this misfortune like a Vice.

I'm not going to blame you - you did with me, as I would any other man: you loved me as property, as a source of joys, anxieties and sorrows, all mutually, without which life is boring and monotonous. I realized this at first... But you were unhappy, and I sacrificed myself, hoping that someday you will appreciate my sacrifice, that someday you will understand my deep tenderness, does not depend on any conditions. It's been since a long time I penetrated into all the mysteries of your soul and saw that it was hope in vain. Bitter I was! But my love has grown together with my soul: it darkened, but not extinguished.

With the possibility of losing her forever, Vera became for me more than anything else - dearer than life, honour, happiness!

Surely, I thought, my only purpose on earth is to destroy other people's expectations? Since I live and act, fate somehow always led me to ending foreign dramas, as if without me no one would never die, never get desperate!

Compassion - a feeling which is so easy to submit to all the women let their claws into her inexperienced heart.

He studied all the living strings of the human heart, how to study the veins of a corpse, but never could he take advantage of his knowledge.

Again I was mistaken: the love of a savage is little better than the love of noble ladies; ignorance and protocetidae one as bored as the coquetry of the other.

Sometimes unimportant case has brutal consequences.