Book: Roadside picnic

Stalkers are not people, they are mutants.

This is the law of life! Dream about one thing and get quite another.

The search for truth. She's hiding, and you are looking for. In one place I dug - yeah, the nucleus consists of protons. In the other dug - beauty, triangle a b C equals triangle a-Prim, b-Prim, C-Prim... You done good. It's worse for me. I the truth is dug up, but this time with her something to do... I Dug up the truth, and dug up a bunch of crap. You take any law of Archimedes. From the very beginning were correct and now it is correct, and always will be right. But's in the Museum of antique pot. At the time it scraps were thrown, and now he is in the Museum and is widely admired brevity pattern and unique shapes... All sighing and groaning, and suddenly it turns out that it's not antique, and slipped his archaeologists some crook or prankster. And the form he left is unique, and the figure concise, Ahan, oddly enough, subsides...

Just boggles the mind: such a gorgeous woman, but actually an empty shell, a fraud, a lifeless doll, not a woman. As I remember, the buttons on the jacket of his mother, such amber, translucent, Golden, and I want to put in your mouth and suck in expectation of some extraordinary sweets, and he took them in his mouth and sucked, and each time was terribly disappointed, and every time forget about that disappointment, not even to forget, but simply refused to believe his own memory, he had to see them again.

Reason is the ability to use the forces of the environment without destroying that environment.

To think means to Dodge, sfintit, to bluff, to cheat...

We are all in a sense, cavemen's nothing scarier than a Ghost or ghoul can't imagine. But the violation of the principle of causality is much more terrifying than a stampede of ghosts...

You can come up with anything. Actually is never what you imagine.

He knew that billions and billions do not know and do not want to know, and if they did, they'd porositsa ten minutes and then return to normal.

If a person is working, he always working for someone, he is a slave and nothing more, and I always wanted myself, wanted to be, for spitting, for theirs melancholy and boredom...

We had to change everything. Not one life and not two lives, not one fate or two of fate - every cog of this stinking world had to be changed...

There is nothing in the world that could not be corrected.

It should never be forgotten that in our Euclidian world every stick has two ends.

Nothing, keep the tail pipe... bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Picked men of a Stalker, so don't complain.