Book: Three colors of time. Page 2

I know only too well that if a person takes up a pen, he must prepare himself for the fact that he will be scolded by a canal.

If Shakespeare is farther away in time, then in inner sense he is much closer to our days.

I never regretted anything.

Time for Bayle always had one of three colors - it was black, red or white. The famous artist tore him away from the whole world for several days with his play of Shakespeare's plays. The red hours were coming.

My exact scientific description of the special kind of madness called love cannot succeed in France. This madness is becoming less and less common in our country.

Returning after seven years of wandering, I see that in France it is impossible to achieve success without humiliating myself and currying favor with the newspapers.

Bayle went to England with the idea of being cured of the disease of love, and when he felt the success of the treatment, he felt sorry for the disease.

Looking through the expenses, Bayle suddenly caught himself thinking that a special expense item for women had fallen out. He was so immersed in the sea of his Italian impressions during the past four years that he did not even notice this huge change in himself. The cost of everything else was also small. The most important article is theater and books.

White, red, black - all these are expressive emblems of changing times.

She wondered why, among the common people, no one was in prison for a long time, while it was enough for a person to graduate from a university or read a lot of books for a prison sentence to be measured in years.

In addition to the artist, reality itself has the ability to awaken subtle and complex sensations of beauty. But the artist himself is a part of reality. And therefore, the activity of the imagination, pouring out in the form of creativity, is the birth of a new reality, is the art of changing the world.

The human imagination does not die. Just as feeling becomes refined, imagination also becomes finer and sharper in human beings.

Laughter of happiness, born in his heart from the day he saw her, soon began to play on her lips.

Romantics and classics are two banks of the river of public surprise. The classics are right-bank people of yesterday's tastes, artists of yesterday's celebration of life. I myself am a romantic - a pioneer who boldly moored to the left bank.