Book: The Girl and the Night

Writing a novel is tricky and tricky business.

Francis has long been accustomed to the idea that life sends a person only such trials as he can afford. Good leads to evil, and evil leads to good.

I take off the cap from the pen and start writing. All my life I've been doing just that. He wrote, drawn by a double contradictory impulse: to erect walls and open doors. Walls - to protect reality from destructive cruelty, and doors - to break out into a parallel world, the same reality, but not as it is, but as it should be.

A person does not write in order to pass for a writer. And in order to know in silence the love that lacks all love.

Our life is multifaceted, often incomprehensible and full of contradictions. Our life is fragile, priceless and at the same time insignificant; we are thrown either into the cold waters of loneliness, or into the warm fountain of youth. But the most important thing is that our life is not really manageable. Enough of the mere trifle - and it is already flying downhill.

How many years do sons need a father? Fifteen? Twenty? Or all your life?

Mystery only makes our love more precious, and by displaying it, we make it a common property and deprive the spirit of mystery.

Weigh carefully whether it is worth getting involved in this or that fight, since not everyone deserves intervention.

Life has taught me that many difficulties can be overcome if everything is well thought out.

This is one of the wonders of life. Being on pins and needles myself, I nevertheless possessed a strange ability to calm people down.

The most difficult thing is to learn to live in a lie in order to deftly deceive others, you must first of all learn how to deceive yourself.

She reminded me that for women like her and me, who cannot boast of origin, all life is a merciless struggle: they have to fight all the time and for everything. That the appearance of a person strong or weak is often deceptive. That many are silently waging an internal struggle with themselves.

Every time I think about the future, I feel fear, longing, emptiness, the desire to run and pain.

Some people seem to be stuck in time. For them, the past never ends.