Book: The heart of the beast. Volume 1. The Truth of Steel, the Lies of Mirrors

Why in cherry Dorak half of the innkeepers were painted on the signs of all kinds of sheep, lambs and sheep, Marcel never understood. It seemed silly even in the late autumn, and when the gardens bloomed... The road was swept by a warm gentle blizzard, on both sides there were living white and pink clouds, in which it selflessly sang, chirped and chirped. Marcel himself also felt like a complete Cat. I wanted to uncontrollably twist the non-existent tail, rush in circles among the blooming cherries, from an excess of feeling rushing to the chest of all good people with a firm intention to immediately lick. <... >
The gardens parted, gallantly passing a cheerful river, behind which meadows stretched, but the viscount's sleeves and the mane of his horse were still decorated with white petals for a long time. "Warm snow of past happiness".

“Depriving you of paper and ink is a very easy way to avoid the end of the world,” Reinsteiner smiled.

Loyalty from the impossibility of treason - even a man, even a banner, even an honor - is inexpensive.

The universe is not yet the world, and prediction is not destiny! What is trying to play with us can go even to Sunset! We do not belong to him. We ourselves create mother-of-pearl. From pain, from a wound, from a splinter, a good pearl is born, madam, and it belongs to us, and not to that which wounded us.

It's nonsense that a woman should seek support from a man; it is necessary to support the one who is harder.